


Inherited

by aldersprig



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Magic nerdery, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Potions nerdery, Slave Severus Snape, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2020-08-20 03:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 22,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20220940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldersprig/pseuds/aldersprig
Summary: Exactly what we all needed: For me to start another story!Ahem.Severus thought that, in death, he'd finally found something like freedom.The bond that held him had other opinions.Now what is he going to do?





	1. Death

Severus was dying. 

He was dying free, a feat he’d never thought he’d manage, but he was most definitely dying. The poison from Voldemort’s cursed snake was pouring through him. 

_ Of all the ways to die— _

It was painful. It might have been, he considered, more painful than the Cruciatus curse. It might have been more painful than having the bones in his foot broken. It was — yes,  _ excruciating _ . 

And yet his lips curled into something of a smirk. 

_ Because the Dark Lord thought he must defeat me. I died because a batty old man was wrong. Seems to be the story of my life.  _

He tried to laugh, but the poison turned it into a convulsion. Of all the horrid places to die, he was finally going to die in the Shrieking Shack.  _ Free _ . 

He hadn’t expected freedom. His only assumption, after the reading of Albus’ will, was that he had been left to someone who wasn’t yet of age —  _ Potter _ , who might have been an adult but wasn’t yet old enough to hold properties or slaves on his own. It would suit Albus’ awful sense of humor to leave him to Potter. 

But whoever it had been, they hadn’t come of age in time. Severus was dying, and there had been nobody to tell him not to. Nobody had controlled his actions for a whole year, a blessed year. He thought — if those tales of an afterlife that judged you on your actions were correct — that he may have done enough good of his own free will to mitigate what ill he had done. 

A seizure wracked him, and his smirk became a shaking smile. He was dying. Almost, almost— 

Power he didn’t recognize wrapped around him. Severus’ eyes opened wide in shock. Was that —

_ No, no, blast it,  _ ** _no!_ **

A surge of magic shot across the field of battle. Here and there, the particularly sensitive shuddered or smiled. One or two Dark creatures fell. 

Cursing, Severus hauled himself to his feet. 

He was no longer dying. He was no longer free. 

Someone had come into their inheritance, and that inheritance was him. 


	2. Destruction

Severus took a wand off of a Death Eater corpse. He drenched it in his own blood and the poison of Nagini and shot of a series of sparks until the wand submitted. 

It might make a wand-maker wince, it would  _ definitely  _ make a Potion-Master wince (it made  _ him _ wince, and he was doing it), but it was an effective short-term solution. His own wand had gone somewhere with the Dark Lord. Voldemort had managed to do  _ that _ , at least. That left him needing something that would  _ obey _ , even if the thing might fight back later. 

He shot off a stunner and then a cutting curse, threw up a shield and dropped the ground out from under a werewolf. He threw a tangle-foot hex at a giant and then a little shoving hex, sending the behemoth backwards and, with a quick levitation push, directly onto a crowd of the Dark Lord’s troops. 

He was vibrating with anger and overflowing with magic that seemed to want to pour out of his mouth and his eyes like tears, like vomit, like a scream. He spat out a curse that  _ Potter, damn him _ had ripped Draco’s chest open with, threw out another one that he’d never written down, and pulled three glass potion bottles out of a deep pocket in his robe. 

There was a huge field of battle between him and his new master. He had only his guesses and Albus’ horrible sense of humor as to  _ who,  _ but an unerring pull in his chest was telling him, if not coordinates, than direction without question. 

Someone hit him with a stinging hex and something that froze up his left arm, but Severus found he didn’t care. He’d been  _ dying _ . He’d managed, almost, to die both properly and free. And the Merlin-cursed magic was taking it away from him. 

He caught sight of Rookwood and shot a Piercing Curse through the man’s guts. Why you could only kill someone  _ quickly _ and have it be Unforgivable, he had never understood. He almost ran straight into Dolohov; the man snarled and started to shoot hexes and curses at Severus, running over and over again into his shield spell. 

He threw his last remaining potion with an awkward and weak left arm that was still barely responding to his commands. The bottle, designed for this, broke at Dolohov’s feet. 

Severus hurried away, a wisp of the fumes catching him. That was nearly enough and he tripped, laughing. If he had come back to life just to die to his own damn potion, to die a slave again, he was going to curse the gods from here until his next life and out the other side.

Behind him, Dolohov choked and groaned but couldn’t scream. His throat was nearly gone already. The potion was something else Severus had never written down. If he died here, nobody else would ever be able to replicate it, and that was for the best. 

He cut through the falling Death Eaters with every hex and jinx and curse he had and some that were just frankly ridiculous. A woman he didn’t recognize went down laughing. Three men he  _ did _ recognize began to declare their undying love for each other, kissing and groping at each other until someone else’s hex knocked them unconcious. Even then, they were moving towards each other. 

Fury drove him, more so than the snarling  _ need _ in his chest. Fury ripped a werewolf in half with a curse he didn’t even remember learning. Fury stopped the father of two of his Snakes with a curse he’d heard called the  _ Fairy Tale Curse _ . He hoped to Merlin’s shorts that nobody loved the man. 

Fury stalled when he saw a student in front of him, and he hissed out his best teacher impression. “Get to the dungeons now and lock yourself in or so help me I will cut the Mark off and leave your arm on the battlefield here.  _ Now _ .”

The child —  _ child _ , he had been nearly that age when he had lost everything — ran away so quickly that they must have used a charm. 

He  _ did _ cut off the next arm that grabbed him, and left the owner — former owner — bleeding out. He was nearly to the steps. 

He never saw who hit him in the back with something that felt like a dozen daggers, but he saw Hermione Granger step up to the side of him. Her wand was going the wrong way, holding up a shield that looked like a million tiny bubbles. Her free hand flicked out with three fingers and light flew out. The color reminded him of a dress that, he thought, Victor Krum would remember the way Severus remembered Lily’s eyes.  _ What curse is that color? _

He couldn’t think of any, but the knives in his back vanished, leaving only pain. He stumbled forward, sketching a weak salute at Miss Granger. 

He fell at the hem of a black robe as a sense of relief washed over him and only barely managed to look up. “Longbottom,” he groaned. 

The giant of a boy was holding the bloody sword of Gryffindor and fending off some sort of creature as if he was a knight of legend. Severus cast his best shielding charm over both of them with his last gasp of magical energy. “Neville fucking Longbottom.”

He was going to die, just so he could find Albus and yell at him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to leave a rec for another fic at the end of each chapter of everything I post here on AO3, with variable success. 
> 
> Since I usually pull my recommendations from my history, and the first page+ of my history is currently this series... well, I've clearly been both enjoying it & reading my way through it: the Stories of the Lone Traveler series, by Dunuelos, here on AO3.
> 
> **Talk to Me!**  
lynthornealder.com  
tootplanet.space/@aldersprig  
twitter.com/lynthornealder


	3. Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It Gets Worse :-)

It got worse. 

Severus woke. 

He had not imagined, yesterday, that such a thing had a strong possibility of happening again. Not, at least, by the time things had started moving. 

He awoke in a bed, which was — well, passing unusual, these days. There was a body pressed to either side of him and a weight on his feet that made him think, for one terrified moment, that someone had put a  _ dog _ there. 

Severus… did not like dogs. He supposed it might be unfair to the species and he did not care one whit.

That meant the bed was big enough for at least three people, which meant it was probably not one of Poppy’s beds. 

Underneath him was just soft enough. To both sides of him was a warmth that he could only very vaguely remember from a time long ago. Albus had certainly never indulged him in  _ cuddling _ , and, if asked, he would have denied the urge with his last breath. 

As he came to, slower than he could remember waking since his last brush with death, certain points of the situation began to prod at Severus’ mind. He was in bed. With two people. Two — maybe three people; there was that weight at his feet. He doubted it was Minerva.

_ Two _ people, and the warmth was not coming from one side in specific. 

What in the bleeding hell had Albus done to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this one just keeps demanding to be written, so have another chapter. :-)
> 
> I've been trying to leave a rec for another fic at the end of each chapter of everything I post here on AO3, with variable success.
> 
> Today: The Wand That Chose Two Wizards, by talkingtravesties, here on AO3. Harry, Draco, tons of wandlore, 8th year, language of flowers... it's awesome.
> 
> **  
Talk to Me!**  
_No, really, talk to me._  
lynthornealder.com  
tootplanet.space/@aldersprig  
twitter.com/lynthornealder


	4. Creatures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus needs to deal with what's happening.  
Or he could just make potions.

He was, even if he had no intention of admitting it to anyone, given any choice in the matter (ha), afraid to move. Severus listened to the breathing on either side of him. One had a little whistle to the sleeping noises that he imagined would be endearing for a little while and then maddening. The other slept so quietly he had to struggle to follow the sound of breaths. 

On his left, the silent sleeper was facing him, an arm over his chest. Severus’ own left arm was flopped carelessly over that arm. He thought about trying to move it, but couldn’t quite get his body to obey him. 

_ Coward _ . 

That, he thought back at himself, had never been in doubt. He couldn’t even manage a heroic death properly. 

To his right, the sleeper had their spine against him. Bony spine, pressed against him, head pillowed on — on a pillow over his arm. How had they even  _ gotten _ him into this position? He breathed in carefully. The sleeper on the right had a faint scent of — radishes? Not just any radishes; while they weren’t a  _ common _ potion ingredient, he had used them frequently enough in both potions and cooking to be able to tell the difference. These were serpent-tail radishes, or his name wasn’t…

Well, it wasn’t, was it? He huffed despite himself. His name was whatever his master… or masters… decided to call him. That was, after all, what he'd signed up for.

"I'm pretty sure—" 

Severus froze. Damnit, he should have known breathing that even meant Longbottom wasn't asleep.

"-that you're not a magical creature, sir."

_ Curse Albus… _ Longbottom, for all his failings, was a pureblood and had been raised that way. Of course he'd put 1 and 1 together when part of his inheritance had been delayed.

"I think that, given the circumstances, we can forgo the  _ sir _ … Master."

Severus was surprised to find himself smiling and tried to stop. This was nearly the worst possible outcome, blast it! He was — he was in for a world of revenge, at the very least

But his body felt better than he could remember it ever feeling, and the situation, however horrid, was also rather laughable. 

Longbottom cleared his throat. "You don't have to call me that."

"Well, then, you most certainly don't have to call me  _ sir." _

"Then what am I supposed to call you?"

"Not Snape…" The dreamy voice to the other side of Severus should not have been a surprise, but he found himself tensing all over again. "That's not really his name."

He may have frozen if he hadn't already been trying to hold stock still. Trust Lovegood to know things nobody else living did. 

"Severus is quite a pretty name. And better than Prince," she continued. "People call their dogs Prince."

"Woof," Severus commented, although he didn't think he'd done a good enough job of hiding the tension. Why did he feel  _ giddy? _ Everything was falling apart! "I'd appreciate not being a dog, yes. Mistress."

"Oh, I'm not your mistress, " breezed had-to-be-Lovegood — he refused to open his eyes. If he didn't open his eyes, this could all be a very strange venom dream as he was dying — just as almost-certainly-Longbottom butted on with

"But you  _ are _ a creature? Sorry sir… Sn…. Severus… sir. But you, one can inherit creatures in certain types of wills, but only at maturity — not adulthood — or if the creature's life is in danger."

"I was dying." The words didn't hold the despair he thought they should. Maybe it was this odd giddiness. "Then… your magic…" He touched his neck. The wound was gone. 

"And then you ripped across the battlefield like Merlin come again, yes. It was brilliant. What you did to that giant, sir, and…"

"And then you fell down at Neville's feet. It was beautiful. Everyone said so."

Severus highly doubted anyone but Lovegood had found the sight of his bloody, half-dead self collapsing to be  _ beautiful.  _ But that meant —  _ Merlin!! _

He struggled to sit up, forcing himself to open his eyes. Not his quarters no. Stone walls, ancient chalkboard — they were in a  _ classroom?  _

"I've got to get out of here. How long have I been… lounging about? The Ministry…"

"Lie down," Lovegood scolded. "You were rather exhausted."

Her voice, Severus found , did not compel obedience, but Longbottom's hand on his chest pushed him down anyway.

“Considering the Malfoys are sitting in the Great Hall, I think they have bigger concerns than you — sir.”

“Besides—” Lovegood shot him a look that was surprisingly sharp. “If you belonged to the Headmaster, then anything you did until he died had to be at his will. That’s how those things work.”

Severus took that in. The Malfoys in the Great Hall. He was in a transfigured bed in a classroom. He pushed himself back upwards, noting as he did so that he was shirtless, which led to the question of what he  _ was _ wearing. 

“Prof — Headmas — sir, she’s right. Nobody is going to—”

“There is a fox on my feet.”

There was a fox looking at him in sleepy indignation. He looked back at the fox — an arctic fox, not quite full grown, from the looks of things — and wondered exactly how much he’d missed. 

“That’s Ginny, sir—”

“Long —  _ Master _ — if you keep calling me sir, you are going to give me an aneurysm, which is a Muggle way of saying  _ you are going to break my brain.” _

_ “ _ I’m sorry, but it’s a very old habit. Anyway, when you were unconscious, you were doing a lot of tossing and turning unless one of us was with you. The more of us with you, the better you did, and once Professor McGonnigal sent us to sleep, we just… but Gin’s the one with the animagus form.”

Severus pinched his nose. “Of course she is. I assure you, Master, Mistress Lovegood, Mis...tress Weasley, that I feel in peak physical condition. May I get up?”

“But—” Longbottom released him, and Severus, taking a moment to assess his form — thank Merlin, he had been wearing trousers and still was — pulled himself out of bed without kicking any of his — his  _ owners _ . “—Si —  _ Severus _ , there’s a lot we have to talk about!”

“I assume, Master, that you can walk and talk at the same time?”

“What? Yes, of course I can.” Longbottom hurried to his feet, showing himself in a similar state of half-dress as Severus.  _ Wonderful _ . He hoped Lovegood was at least wearing a shirt, too. “But you nearly  _ died _ . Twice.”

“And your presence, thank you, has healed me.”

“But—”

“I assume there are many wounded?”

“A lot of them, yes, mostly in the Great Hall but we helped make some more rooms like this one, too. Harry and Hermione and Ron are in one—”

_ Potter _ . He winced. “Then healing potions will be needed. Minerva will need help with the wards and the rituals to help Hogwarts begin to heal, as well, and I believe I know of some potions that will help  _ her _ . Do please come along. You seem to have made some assumptions and I want to make sure you are not wildly off base before you go spreading these things about.” 

There was, of course, no sign of his robes or shirt, so Severus shook a piece of chalk until it consented to being transfigured into a shirt. He turned to find Longbottom un-transfiguring his pillow into his own robe and, thank Morganna’s loom, Lovegood was wearing a flowing purple thing that, while it clearly hadn’t quite taken to the cleaning charms, was covering her thoroughly. 

And Weasley… Weasley was a fox. And seemed content to stay that way. 

“All ready? Good. Let’s see what a wreck has been made of my laboratory.”

As long as he didn’t  _ stop _ , he wouldn’t have to think about the fact that these — these  _ children _ were his owners now. 

If he moved fast enough, he wouldn’t even have to think about his aborted death, or the people he had passed on the battlefield. The bodies, the ones he’d made and the ones he hadn’t saved. 

He strode out of the classroom as if the demons of hell, and not three of Hogwarts most earnest, if unwise students, were on his tail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to leave a rec for another fic at the end of each chapter of everything I post here on AO3, with variable success.
> 
> Today: The Benevolent Overlord series by OhHamilton, here on AO3. Severus both notices and understands the abuse he sees in Harry's mind, and everything changes. 
> 
> My Inherited recs can now be found here - https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Inherited%20Recs
> 
> **   
**
> 
> ****  
Talk to Me!  
_No, really, talk to me._  
lynthornealder.com  
tootplanet.space/@aldersprig  
twitter.com/lynthornealder  



	5. Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yip... yiiiiiiip whine," the arctic fox added.

One of the advantages to being known for a certain look, albeit in his case a dour one, was that when one was looking considerably different — the chalk-colored shirt that insisted on being rather poofy rather than fitted, for starters, and Lovegood, it had to have been her, had done something to his hair for another — they didn’t immediately process you as the same person. In this case, it means that he and his tail of  _ owners _ were down to the dungeons before anyone had called out his name. His not-his-name, as Lovegood had  _ somehow _ determined. 

"All right," he snapped, when they were away from the bustle of the main floor. "What do you already know, and what have you figured out?"

"Well, sir," Longbottom began, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Well. When Headmaster Dumbledore's will was read, there was -- there was a clause for the three of us. It was-" He looked at Lovegood.

_ "To Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Ginevra Weasley, I leave my greatest weapon.  _

_ Neville, may this weapon serve you as well -- if not better -- than I have been served. You will need strong steel in your hand and by your side. _

_ Luna, may this weapon instruct you. You light will shine brighter than many, if not all, given the proper lenses. _

_ Ginny, may this weapon give to you that which you love most, and continue to do so, for you will need that to become the flame you were meant to be." _

Severus cursed, shook his head, and made himself keep walking. 

"At first, I thought it was the Sword of Gryffindor," Neville admitted, "but that--"

"That is your inheritance, but not because of Albus," Severus agreed. 

"It was - there was this  _ pull _ on my magic, not an unpleasant one, and it felt like someone was  _ unfolding _ me," Neville continued. 

"As if the magic decided we needed to be more to do what it needed, and found the more within it," Lovegood agreed. 

"Yip... yiiiiiiip  _ whine _ ," the arctic fox added. 

"I'm afraid I am not all that fluent in fox," Severus found himself apologizing. "So. Let me see. For you, I'm to serve you, master. For you-" He paused to look at Lovegood. "I can see it," he agreed slowly. "Not that I have any choice in the matter, but I  _ can _ see it." Thank Merlin he hadn't been willed to tutor  _ Longbottom _ . "And... Mistress Weasley."

She shifted fluidly back to her human form — clothed, thank Morganna and all that was magical. “I don’t think you noticed, but you saved a lot of lives yesterday. You saved Fred’s life, for sure. And I know you’ve saved Harry’s life before. You’ve saved what I love most.”

“Your family? Or Mister Potter?” he sneered, although he knew better. 

The look she gave him was ⅓ young Molly Prewett, ⅓ young Arthur Weasley, and entirely  _ her _ . “You don’t know me very well at all, sir, if you think those are different things.”

He cleared his throat. “Well then. So I am to be your weapon.”

“That’s what we’ve figured out, sir. The problem is,” Longbottom continued, sounding far less cowed than Severus was used to him sounding, “I don’t understand how that’s possible. You’re clearly not a house-elf, sir, and definitely not a centaur, even if that treaty  _ was _ considered valid. Or a merfolk — merman. And those are the only creatures that I’m aware have active treaties which allow — well — inheritance.”

“There are several others that wouldn’t be mentioned in books outside the restricted section — and perhaps not in there, either. But, as to the question you’re dancing around, I am a wizard by blood and by wand, albeit a half-blooded one.” He sneered. He always sneered when he said that; he didn’t think he could stop it without a direct order.

Which his master did not give, nor did Longbottom appear to notice the sneer.

“But —” Longbottom frowned.

“There is an ancient ritual, something from possibly before the age of Merlin, that can put a wizard on the level of, for instance, a house-elf, although the creatures that were originally referenced were  _ not _ house-elves and, as far as I am aware, no longer exist. I haven’t — been allowed the time to research the matter, nor does it particularly matter to my circumstance.”

“So… someone… did this ritual to you?”

“Yes.” If not asked  _ who _ , he was not going to explain. Ever.

"And can it be undone?"

Severus huffed. They were almost to the safety of his potions lab. They were almost to a place where he could hide in the work he had to do. 

"Only by an immensely powerful wizard or witch."

"Like Professor Dumbledore." Lovegood's voice held something Severus tried not to listen too closely too. It sounded like sympathy. 

"Like Albus," he agreed quietly. 

"Not... us."

"No, Longbo- Master - not by seventh-year students who have suffered an education punctuated by distractions and danger, I'm afraid. My option for freedom was death."

"So without that -- you're -- you belong to us."

"I serve you, yes. You specifically, Mr. Longbottom, although it appears I will be educating Miss Lovegood. Mistress Lovegood--" He found his voice going soft. When had  _ that _ happened? "I would appreciate it if you would pay very close attention to safety precautions. You have the chance of being a very brilliant witch. You make intuitive leaps that are unsurpassed in your generation. But--"

"But," she agreed so sadly that Severus actually felt like the heel he knew he was, "so was my mother and so did she, but she--"

He should not have been surprised by the way Miss Weasley enveloped Miss Lovegood in a hug, and he  _ was _ not surprised by the way she glared at him, but he did find himself a little startled at how guilty he felt. "I- I did not mean to--"

"Of course, you never do, do you?"

"Ginny. Ginny." Miss Lovegood patted her friend's arm gently. "He was under orders. Remember?  _ He belonged to Professor Dumbledore." _

_ " _ Not last year, he didn't." Miss Weasley was still glaring at him. Severus hung his head and tried to remember the proper posture when one has upset one's owner. 

"And I thought it was very educational, the way he recreated the witch burnings, didn't you?"

" _ What?!" _ . As if realizing they were, to a degree, sneaking, Miss Weasley kept her voice quiet while still managing to suggest an angry screech a la her mother. 

Miss Lovegood was unbothered. "You remember. The witches just getting a mild tickling feeling while they pretended to burn? I don't think most of the young students can act that convincingly." She turned her eyes on Severus in obvious curiosity. 

He felt a mild compulsion to answer her, but pretended he would have anyway. "You are, as always, Miss Lovegood, far too perceptive. Thank you for not giving it away before." He cleared his throat. The students — they heard me lecturing them about the foolishness of getting caught when there were Death Eaters ready to torture them. Said Death Eaters heard their student screaming appropriately, as well as heard themselves saying  _ crucio, _ rather than _mendacio_, which sealed the enchantment. It couldn't be everyone." He didn't  _ want  _ to apologize to Miss Weasley, but he felt he had to. "They may have noticed. They may have found a way around it, even if they didn't suspect me. So I focused on third years and younger for the most part."

Miss Weasley kicked her lips. "You… you protected the kids, the youngest students, so they didn't really get tortured?"

"I did." He had done other things as well, but he was not going to grovel and beg forgiveness. 

Not unless ordered to.

She nodded sharply and that, it seemed, was that. They were at his lab anyway. "What can we do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to leave a rec for another fic at the end of each chapter of everything I post here on AO3, with variable success.
> 
> Today: Chaotic Good by Nahiel, here on AO3.  
The Weasley twins would do anything for their "Little Brother" Harry - including "kidnapping" and adopting him. 
> 
> My Inherited recs can now be found here - https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Inherited%20Recs
> 
> **  
**  
Talk to Me!  
  
lynthornealder.com  
tootplanet.space/@aldersprig  
twitter.com/lynthornealder


	6. Brewing

_ What can we do? _

What, indeed? Severus lowered the wards around his private lab and scooped up a basket — a modified milk-bottle basket he had reshaped to his own needs. “Master, if you could be willing to take some potions to the Great Hall? That’s where the patients are being held?”

“And the—” Longbottom gulped. “The dead.”

“We may be soon enough for some of them. All right.” He unlocked wards and illusions, pulling forth simple cabinets and others that were hidden yet again under a keying spell. A wave of his wand in exactly the right way and he had what he wanted. 

“For those who are recently dead — no more than a few hours, I’m afraid, up to eight if you have sufficient potion to risk wasting it, because it’s not guaranteed at more than three hours — or are clearly on death’s door, the green potion. It has a measuring doser in its lid — one pour for those on death’s door, two for those already dead, and three to four for those that you’re willing to risk it on.”

“You can’t  _ bring back the dead!” _ Ginny stared in horror at him. 

“No. But there is a state that we can call ‘mostly dead’ which reads to healers — wizarding or Muggle — as dead. Magic can, however, revive someone from that state. The proper magic. Right. The blue potion, Master, is for those with severe or horrible injuries. One dose for severe injuries, two for loss of a limb larger than a finger. The pink is for those attacked by a werewolf — one dose now, then another every twelve hours until the full moon. And the red one is for injuries that are bad but neither life-threatening nor werewolf-caused. One dose per injury. Understood?

“Green — one if not dead, two if dead, three if really dead. Blue, one or two, severe injuries or loss of limb. Pink, werewolf attack, one dose now, talk to you about more. Red, one per injury. Yes, sir.”

“Good. Hurry, we may save lives yet.” 

Once Longbottom was safely out of the way, Severus pulled out his personal recipe book. With a wave of his wand, he replicated two pages and handed one to Miss Lovegood and one to Miss Weasley. "These are well within your capabilities, ladies, mistresses, and will be needed. If you cannot find anything — please ask."

He paused just long enough to see that they both were confident in their assignments before he began to work on his own. The next half hour was quiet, punctuated only by the occasional question. 

"Why not teach this one in class?" Miss Weasley asked, when she had reached a "waiting" stage on her potion.

"Two reasons, Miss — Mistress Weasley. First, that potion has three separate stages of brewing which,if done wrong, can release toxic fumes. You have already passed all three, have no fear. But if you would imagine, say, Mr. Finnegan with that potion…"

Wrong year, he realized. "Or Miss Cappelli?"

She shuddered. "Urrgh."

"Indeed. Also, the Ministry only allows Ministry-approved potions to be taught, and neither Lucius nor Albus, in their positions as part of the Governing Board and Hogwarts, had any interest in this potion being available to the greater public. ‘Greater good’ and all that.” He huffed, realized he was possibly revealing too much, and tried to contain his attitude. 

“So it’s better than a normal healing potion?” Miss Weasley was frowning at her cauldron. 

"Absolutely. It helps the body to restore  _ itself,  _ simply in an accelerated manner. And, as you may have noticed, it has no silver anywhere in its creation, thus making it safe for werewolves or potential werewolves.”

“That’s beautiful. What does mine do?” Miss Lovegood leaned forward. 

“Yours, Mistress Lovegood, is a topical scar-reducing formulation. I  _ would _ teach this in NEWT-Level potions classes, but several of the ingredients are prohibitively expensive." He turned his attention back to his own potion, adding in the muskroot shavings and stirring slowly and carefully to a count of 56.

When he had set the stirring rod down, Miss Weasley cleared her throat. "So why 'Mistress' this and that for Luna and I and just 'Master' for Neville?"

"Ah. Ahem." He turned back to his potion, although it needed no attention at the moment. 

"He's confused," Lovegood confided.

"Yes, thank you, Mistress Lovegood, I  _ can _ choose what I want to say—"

He cut himself off. He couldn't, could he?  Not  really. 

“Of course. I’m sorry, Severus.”

“It’s certainly not a problem.” Oh, when had he started sounding so  _ stiff? _ Lily would laugh…

No, not the time to be an idiot. He cleared his throat. “The issue is that Albus was my master for a very long time and, is the nature of the ritual, my  _ only _ master, whatever others might have thought. However, in his infinite wisdom—”

“Careful,” Lovegood warned. “Voices like that can bring the nargles.”

“-in his meddling,” Severus answered more honestly,  _ he didn’t have to obey her _ but he was going to anyway, wasn’t he? “-Albus chose to leave me to all three of you, but in different positions. For you, Mistress Weasley, not to serve but as protector of the Weasley line and of Mr. Potter, and I’d appreciate it if your family was  _ slightly slower _ at producing more Weaslies than your mother, as I am going to be up to my eyebrows in wards as it is. For you, Mistress Lovegood, as teacher.”

“So… it’s sort of like an intermediate step? Not quite  _ person who owns me — _ I can’t believe that’s really a thing, Hermione is already going spare in her, ha, spare time and she doesn’t  _ have _ any of that right now, we just won a war — but not  _ normal person in my life? _ By the way, sir, I’m impressed at the way you make  _ Master _ sound like  _ you idiot _ .”

He blinked at Miss Weasley. "Mistress..." She could talk faster than anyone he'd ever heard, and he had taught Lee Johnson. "I, ah." Severus looked back to his potion, which refused to require his attention. "He is— not an idiot, of course."

"What potion are  _ you _ brewing, Severus?" Lovegood, in a surprise twist of fate, rescued him from his own mouth. 

“Ah.” He smiled. He was actually fond of this, though he had not had many chances to brew it. “This is a restoration potion for Hogwarts. It requires a donation of both magic and blood from someone who considers the place a home, so please don’t be distressed.”

Miss Weasley raised her eyebrows at him. “Blood magic?”

“Yes.” He didn’t bother to sound defensive. “Yes, Mistress Weasley, although it is the opposite of Dark, by the definition currently used around here. Do you believe Albus would have allowed me to brew things which were Dark?”

The answer was actually  _ Yes, if it suited his plans,  _ but he was hoping that Miss Weasley didn’t know that. 

She considered that. “But it uses blood?” Her tone was more curious than aggressive, at least. 

“Well, it’s a symbolic use of blood. Hogwarts is my home; I give to it as she gives to me.” He pulled out a couple special ingredients and began carefully grinding the stone into dust.

“How do you — how do you feed a potion to Hogwarts? Or it it topical, like Luna’s potion?"

"That—" Severus found himself smiling. Genuinely smiling. When was the last time that had happened? "-that is better shown than explained. I have approximately forty-seven minutes left on this potion. That is enough time for the two of you to finish your current potions and either swap, take on new potions, or take a break to eat. In the meantime, any questions?" He eyed his time spell, and the two he had surreptitiously put up for the girls' — women's— potions. They all had a few minutes. 

"How do you choose the carrier? For this, specifically, it seems that beeswax is an odd option."

_ Odd _ , from Lovegood, was saying something. Severus was torn between explaining and asking her why — but he could feel the pressure to answer, to  _ educate, _ curse Albus, so he started there.

"Whale blubber or, better, Leviathan fat or northern mermaid tail-fat have the best properties for healing salves, but the former is illegal to hunt, the latter immoral to use  _ and _ frequently illegal, and nobody's seen sign of a Leviathan in 50 years. Beeswax is neutral in most applications and, unlike some bases, is unlikely to cause a reaction for anyone."

He caught his breath — this would take some getting used to — and pointed a more professorial smile at Lovegood. "And why, may I ask, do you find it unusual?"

"Generally, soybean oil or wheat germ oil are used by Muggles, because they can extract Vitamin E from it." 

The calm, sensible words coming in Lovegood's dreamy voice was too much for Severus. He groped for the stool, found it, and sat with a thump. 

"Blimey." For a moment, Miss Weasley sounded  _ far _ too much like her youngest older brothers. "I think you broke him, Luna."

"No…" Lovegood sounded deeply sorrowful and, of course, still dreamy. "Someone or someones did that a long time ago. I think that's why he attracts so many nargles."

_ Much better. _ Severus looked up, bleakly, at his Mistresses. "Might…" He struggled for his normal tone and managed to get somewhere near it. "Might one of you stop talking about me as if I weren't here long enough to get me some water? Glasses are in the blue handled cabinet."

"Of course, Severus." 

He put his head in his hands, but he could hear the clink of glass, Miss Weasley's firm _Aguamenti_, and a brief murmur, then a glass was placed in his hand. 

"Slowly is best," Lovegood warned. Severus took a gulp.

His favorite scotch burned all the way down. Someone took the glass from his hand and replaced it.

This time, Severus  _ looked. _

The glass was filled with water.

"I did warn you," Lovegood scolded. "Still slowly, Severus."

He sipped the water — it  _ was _ water — slowly. "Why Scotch?"

"You've had quite a few shocks today. You need to relax."

"Miss… Mistress Lovegood, I have not  _ relaxed _ since some time before you were born ."

"All the more reason to relax now. May we ask more questions?"

"I am to be your tutor, Mistress Lovegood, you may— " two of his timing spells chimed at the same moment as a soft tinkle of bells came from Lovegood's wand. "-ask more after we work on these potions."

He might even enjoy it. If only his  _ students _ had been like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to leave a rec for another fic at the end of each chapter of everything I post here on AO3, with variable success.
> 
> Today: Love That Grows Series by Wizardheart83 (Plant_Murderer)  
Petunia makes a wise decision when faced with a child on her doorstep, and Harry grows up loved. 
> 
> My Inherited recs can now be found here - https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Inherited%20Recs
> 
>   
Talk to Me!
> 
> lynthornealder.com  
tootplanet.space/@aldersprig  
twitter.com/lynthornealder


	7. Neville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville is not an idiot. I promise.

Despite popular perception, Neville was not an idiot. He was well aware that Prof — Headmas — Sna —  _ Potions Master —  _ wanted him out of the way before he began brewing, and Neville was more than happy to oblige him while being actually useful.

The Great Hall was quieter than it had been when he, Ginny, Luna, and an unconscious Potions Master had last left here. Beds in tidy rows held people he'd known, gone to school with, fought with and against. Family cried at the 9 of sheet-covered bodies, and some at the sides of the still living. Aurors paced the perimeter, hands on their wands.

Madame Pomfrey was easy to find, standing at the center of it all directing her volunteer army of healers and caretakers.

"Potions Master Sn… Severus sends these, and he's brewing more," Neville told her, and watched relief flicker across her face. Another brief light seemed to give her strength as he carefully repeated the instructions he'd been given.

"So the mad genius actually did it," she breathed.

Neville had never heard someone refer to Sn - to the Potions Master that way, but Madame Pomfrey spent several seconds being awed. 

Then she flashed out her wand, tapped Neville's shoulders, and flung out a series of gestures. Bright green lights in various sizes appeared over a handful of beds. 

"Right, the bigger lights, the very bright ones. Go there first. One sip each, as your - as Severus said. Then move on to those with the dimmer, smaller lights, two sips, then come see me."

Neville considered, for a brief moment, protesting that he'd only come to deliver the potions. He had so many questions…

Which could wait, unlike the green potion. "Yes, ma'am. "

He'd faced down Death Eaters and a giant snake, blown up a bridge he'd been standing on and told Severus that he'd  _ inherited  _ him.

This was harder. 

The people with the bright green lights over them were in  _ awful _ shape — limbs missing, eyes gouged out, skin covered in burns. Neville swallowed his gorge and poured the potion down their throats, one after another after another.

One girl's face had been ripped open by claws. When she sat up, the wounds still ugly but closing, Necille could tell that her vision was impaired or gone. "Madame Pomfrey has a potion that might help you…"

Neville thought fast, something the last 2 years had done well to educate him in. "Hold on…" The Will O Wisp charm would make a light… there was that weird charm Luna liked that made little puffballs; she wore them in her hair. Could he…

"Can you hold out a hand?"

"I'm blind, not an invalid," she snarled. Neville didn't take offense; he could practically smell the fear radiating off of her. 

She held out a hand anyway. Neville focused hard on his will and intent and combined the two spells.

The woman's hand jerked back as a jittery puffball appeared in it. "What the…?"

"Follow it. It's a tactile will o wisp. It'll lead you to Madame Pomfrey."

It had worked!! There was no time to celebrate, however; the last of the bright green lights was starting to flicker and fade. Neville hurried to it, shoved a grieving man out of the way with a hurried apology, didn't even look to see who it was, and poured the potion between parched and bloody lips. 

Narcissa Malfoy gasped back to life with a bloody cough. Neville paled, glanced at Lucius Malfoy, and bowed hurriedly. "My apologies, Lord Malfoy, but-"

Lucius looked at Narcissa, looked back at Neville, and bowed deeply. "No apology is needed, Lord Longbottom. Thank you."

Neville bobbed another bow. None of his grandmother's etiquette lessons covered what to say in the middle of a life-or-death situation, so he gestured at the next patient and mumbled something incoherent before hurrying off. 

If the living patients had been heard, the dead ones - the  _ mostly-dead _ ones - were even harder. Neville prayed to Morganna and Nimune and Merlin as he parted lips that did not respond and carefully poured two glugs into Colin Creevy's throat. 

The young man gasped and sat straight up before collapsing back to the bed with a whimper, unconscious but - Neville checked twice - breathing.

_ Almost dead.  _ Okay, he could work with that. He moved from faded green light to green light, trying to ignore the horrendous wounds. Sometimes, there were mourners. He didn't know what to say — what if it didn't work? — so he poured without words, like it was simply some sort of body-readying ritual. 

It didn't always work, either; on about one in four, nothing happened. Neville made his way to all of those Madame Pomfrey had marked and then, because  _ what if they were just a little more dead than he'd thought? _ , he poured one more glug down each throat. 

Fay Dunbar gasped back to life with a ragged scream. A Ravenclaw boy whose name Neville couldn't remember stayed unmoving. 

"Oi, oi you, what about my boy here?" The shout ripped across the noise of the Great Hall.

Neville froze.

"Yeah, you, nurse-boy. Come on then, mediwitch, bring that potion over here."

He had, he was  _ certain,  _ he had checked  _ three times _ , visited every person with a green light over them.

He hadn't gone to the bed in question, and, the way the man standing there was glaring at him, he didn't really  _ want _ to. 

He had fought Naigini, he reminded himself. He had stood on the stairs of Hogwarts and faced down the armies of as Voldemort. He made his way over to the shouting man.

Other people were staring. "Sir?"

He didn't know the man. The body on the bed was covered with a sheet. "My boy. That potion."

Neville looked at the sheet. It did not appear to be covering a  _ whole _ body. "I — I —"

"Aye, aye, aye," the man sneered. "I saw you! Pour the blasted potion, boy."

Neville stood up straighter. If he could learn to handle Severus Snape, he could handle this. 

"I administer this potion only on a mediwitch's orders, sir. I'm a student here, just helping."

"So get the mediwitch."

"Sir, this potion, it doesn't restore… it doesn't bring back organs, or limbs, or eyesight."

"That can be taken care of later, you know. Anything can be regrown! We're  _ wizards _ , lad! Stop being a pansy and think!"

"I am thinking, sir. I'm thinking about Mad-Eye Moody, who was missing a leg an eye. I'm thinking about the potion in my hand, which-" he plowed ahead "-does not restore life to the actually dead but  _ can _ save more lives is I hurry. I'm thinking that if I had died like this, sir, that the next plane on might be more welcoming than a body that didn't work."

"You don't know anything my boy here!"

"I know that he's not here anymore. I know what that's like, too." He bowed shallowly. "My most sincere condolences for your loss, sir."

Neville turned to go. The man grabbed his arm. "You get back here and you cure my boy!"

Neville hadn't seen them approach, but suddenly there were three students with their wands pointed at the man. Cho Chang stood up tall and proud. Her wand was unwavering. Susan Bones looked unsteady on her feet - foot, he amended - but her wand was lit up with sparks. One of the Weasley Twins draped an arm around Neville. 

"You should let Neville do his job," Cho informed the man, who slowly, uncertainly released Neville's arm. 

"Thank you." Susan's smile was sweet, even if she still looked as if she'd been through the flames. Twice. "Spruce Orchards is here from the Ministry. She will help you get your son ready for burial. We are sorry for your loss, and we are proud of your son and his sacrifice, Mr. Fawley."

The three escorted Neville back to Madame Pomfrey. 

"Oh, good. Mr. Longbottom, I sent Miss Chang here to find you for Miss Bones. Perhaps Severus' potion--"

"We can try," Neville agreed. "But - Madame Pomfrey, some people think it can bring back the dead. There's some - argument."

"Oh, pish. People will think anything if they're worried enough. Take Susan here, then, the three of you, and go into one of the side rooms. Then take that potion back to Severus to lock up. It's done all it can here, I believe."

"Yes, ma'am."

Neville didn't consider himself particularly weak-stomached, but he was still very glad to get out of that room, away from the shouts and the moans and the smell. And he was more glad when the potion seemed to do some small good for Susan, although it did not regrow her foot.

"Better one foot than none," she offered, her cheer clearly put on like a mask. Neville, sensing she would fall apart if she was hugged, left her sitting on a desk with Cho and the twin. "I'll be back," he assured her, but he didn't know, quite, where he was going to go in the meantime.


	8. Pensive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is always good to make sure you know who is coming in the door before you begin to speak to them.

Severus was beginning to get worried. 

Not because of anything that either of the girls - women - with him had done, because they were still alternating working very well on their assigned potions (hard to believe that Ronald was related to either Ginevra or to their older brothers, at least Fred, George, and Percy), but because Longbottom had not yet returned, and the potion that Severus was brewing was nearly complete. 

He didn't  _ need _ Longbottom with him to give Hogwarts the potion, of course -- better to ask for forgiveness than permission and all - but he found that he wanted the boy to see what he could do, in part, and to understand things that administering the potion would explain more quickly than attempting to use Severus' rather failing skill with words. 

He could send a Patronus - but his store of happy memories that were actually happy enough to light a corporal Patronus were dwindling down to nothing, he found himself rather miserable overall, and he was  _ not _ going to ask one of his students to send a Patronus to fetch his master. 

Thus, when the door opened, Severus found himself relieved. "Master, I was hoping-"

He stopped mid-turn to find himself staring at Harry Bloody Potter.

Severus very nearly dropped something in his potion, ruining his work. He almost didn't notice Lovegood catching his hand and setting his stirring rod aside. 

"Potter. What do you need?"

"Professor, shall I take over your potion?" Lovegood offered lightly. 

"Yes please... Miss Lovegood. Stir until the timer goes off, slow and clockwise. Thank you."

She took the stirring rod and took over with a grace that would have pleased him, if he had not been glaring at  _ Bloody Potter _ . 

"SIr. I." Harry cleared his throat. "Can we talk alone?"

"Do you have secrets from Miss Weasley or Miss Lovegood, Potter? I'm sure they'd be mortified to hear it."

"No, no, of course not sir, but I thought you might want some privacy."

"Surely Longbottom and the others told you of my... situation. Privacy is not something that I am allowed."

"It is," Weasley put in, "if we choose to allow it. Go on, Professor. Luna or I will get you when your timer goes off - or just before, I assume."

He looked at the girls. He looked at Potter. He sighed. "Very well. My office, Mr. Potter."

He strode out of the potions lab and into his office, pretending he wasn't dreading this. He had been  _ dying _ . He had wanted one person, just one, to know what was going on. And Potter had been there. So he had given Potter his memories. 

Potter pulled the vial from his pocket before he sat down. Severus' jaw clenched. 

"I didn't watch these. Sir. You gave those to me assuming you were dying, and I - I didn't know anything to save you. I'm sor-"

"Please save it, Potter. You have loathed me from the beginning and I prefer it that way."

"Of course you do," Potter snapped. "You're -- you -- You're clever. You probably could've been less of an ass, if you hadn't wanted me to hate you. What?" he snarled. "I  _ can _ think, you know, when I'm given a bloody moment to do so. So yeah, no big revelation there. You wanted me to hate you." Potter's shrug was sharp and hurt. 

Severus pinched his nose. "Mr. Potter, I thank you for returning my memories, but as I nearly died yesterday--"

"Sorry mate, wrong room to try that one. I  _ did _ die yesterday."

"Ghosts cannot carry memories. Or anything else, for that matter." Severus said it stupidly, as if scoffing at Potter would make the boy's words go away. 

"No. I imagine they can't. But I -- I was given a choice." All the anger bled out of the boy. "I figure, from what Neville and Luna and Gin said, that was more than you had. In a long time."

"If you had watched the memories--"

"I would've been doing so under false pretenses, sir." He pushed the vial forward towards Severus. "You gave them to me because you thought you were dying. We all saw you on the battlefield."

Severus sighed. "You're being awfully respectful for someone who hasn't watched them," he grumbled. "You couldn't be like this when I was your teacher?"

"You were an  _ ass _ when you were my teacher. Sir. But knowing that the Headmaster - that - That Dumbledore..." Potter faltered. 

Serverus huffed. "Potter. As it turns out I am not dying and I am not to be hunted and tried for my perceived crimes - or for my genuine, ignored crimes - then I do have a few choices left to me, and a few desires that I wish to hold. One of them is to  _ not be pitied _ . I got myself into that mess. Albus had every right - by the laws of magic and by the laws of the Wizarding World, if not by common decency - to do as he did, and he chose - well."

He sat down with a huff. "I believe I would prefer you watch the memories. It would be best if Granger did as well, but I suppose you can explain to her, as I  _ would _ like them back." With a tired wave, he summoned his Pensieve. 

"Sir? You want me to--"

"Potter." He pinched his nose and reminded himself of several important facts. "Harry, if I may. I would rather, considering the amount that your life and existence have affected my own, I would like you to see these. The fact that  _ now  _ you are choosing to learn about boundaries and privacy-"

Potter flushed darkly. "Sir, I-"

"No," Severus put up his hands. "It's a good thing. Please.  _ Accio Pensive _ ."

The cupboard opened and his personal Pensive floated gracefully out to land in front of Potter. With a look that was amazingly dubious -- an expression that reminded Severus once more that this was  _ not _ James Potter, James who was never  _ dubious _ or doubtful or uncertain -- this Potter dumped out Severus' memories into the Pensieve.


	9. In Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Harry actually talk. Will miracles never cease?

"Tempus," Severus muttered. Potter had been looking at those memories for far too long. If he had to go work on the next stage of the potion while Potter was still here —

"Sir." Harry shook himself and looked at Severus like he was trying to make the pieces fit. Severus could have told him that they  _ never _ fit, that you couldn't take the choices a child had made and put them into any sort of sense —

But Harry was younger now than Severus had been then, and he had just saved them all. 

"Sir," he repeated. He cleared his throat. "I'll explain to Hermione. She'll have questions, you know she will—"

"She may work with Mr. Longbottom, Miss Lovegood, and Miss Weasley to find an appropriate time to question me," Severus agreed. "If you could endeavor  _ not _ to tell Mr. Weasley — that is, the one that is part of your Trio — at least until I or you have vacated the school, I'd appreciate it, but I understand if you cannot."

Harry peered at him. "You're different."

"I am." Severus saw no point in arguing with the obvious.

"Why? I mean, is it because..." He made a gesture he clearly thought would be explanatory.

Severus pinched his nose. Again. "In a way. It is because — thank you — Tom Riddle is dead. Albus is dead. Lucius Malfoy — I'm certain you saw that part —"

"I watched it all, sir. He's—"

"He is a conniving, horrible man. I have hopes for Narcissa and Draco, but, well. I may hold a grudge, but if I do so, I will do so elegantly."

"But he doesn't hold anything over you anymore, does he? He can't, can he?"

"He is, more or less, powerless, yes. Longbottom is an old and well—known family. So is Lovegood. So is Weasley."

"So you're... protected because of who Dumbledore left you to? Do you think he...?"

"I don't know, Harry." Severus leaned back in his chair and sighed deeply. "I have never, ever, understood his motives or end goals. I began to believe, before the end, that his end goals were as far above mine in scope and planning as mine might be above—"  _ A first-year-student— _ "a rabbit in the field. There is a good chance he left me to — to Longbottom to fulfill something that has nothing to do with either the lad or I."

Harry watched him cautiously, like one might watch a feral cat. "Hermione's been reading..."

"One assumes so, as I can tell that she is still breathing."

"How?" Harry peeked at him cautiously. 

"Because, Mr. Potter." Severus found himself smiling instead of sneering. Was this  _ affection _ he was feeling for this man? The bond hadn't been sealed yet, it couldn't be the results of the affection all three of his new  _ owners _ felt for him. Oh, blast it. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Because, Harry, you're here and you're relatively calm. You deal with grief — I would say poorly, but it is much more fair to say  _ humanly _ ."

"Since when have you been fair?" Harry muttered. 

"Since I am free to be so at the moment," Severus countered. "Since you — of all people — did succeed in freeing me from my last obligation to my old life. Which I am grateful for. No. If Miss Granger or Ronald hadn't survived, you would not be capable of speech, and not only would I not fault you this, I would stand between you and whoever might try to fault you with a wand. You have lost too many already." He paused. "And I am heartless. I apologize. There were many you loved in this battle..."

"You know Gin's alive. Remus got a bad hit but he'll live; you, actually, saved Tonks' life. Thank you." The gratitude in Harry's voice was dripping, naked and heavy. Severus didn't feel worthy of it. 

"I—"

"Thank you anyway. You were killing death eaters and only death eaters. Everyone saw it. Throwing around curses like you were taking points from Gryffindor."

His smile was genuine. Severus allowed himself a chuckle. "Well, I was, ah, irked."

"I have to say, sir, only you could be irked at being alive, but — but it has something to do with this, uh, this..."

"Slave, Harry, you can say it."

"It's not supposed to exist! Slavery was outlawed in Britain in 1833! There's —"

"You may have noticed," Severus cut in, before he could be treated to Miss Granger's newest rant by proxy, "that the Wizarding World not only follows its own laws but ignores many of Muggle Britain's laws. Or, I imagine, you would have been placed with different guardians."

"Nevi—" Harry closed his mouth with a snap. He opened it again a moment later. "Tonks. Remus. Among the dead — well, Neville started passing around this green potion, so I'm not sure anymore. Ah." He cleared his throat. "Blaze Goosander. He was a second—year Gryffindor. You — You killed the Death Eater that killed him, but we couldn't save him, and his father, his father is flipping his lid. Star Longbottom — she's, she was, a distant cousin of Neville, I guess, she was a third year. She was —"

Severus held up his hand. "Thank you," he murmured tiredly. "I will look at the lists of the dead later. And we will all mourn — yes, even me. But your loved ones, Harry?"

"I think they all made it out," he answered quietly. "I think — I think I didn't lose anyone else. Thank you, sir. For that — and for everything."

Severus held up his hand. "Thank you," he murmured tiredly. "I will look at the lists of the dead later. And we will all mourn — yes, even me. But your loved ones, Harry?"

"I think they all made it out," he answered quietly. "I think — I think I didn't lose anyone else. Thank you, sir. For that — and for everything."

Severus was saved answering by Lovegood's blonde head popping into the room. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she told them, although she sounded more  _ curious _ than  _ sorry _ , "but it is time for the next step of your potion, Severus."

"Aah. Well, thank you, Mistress Lovegood." He stood slowly, feeling old and tired again, if only for a moment. "And, again, thank you, Harry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
May I suggest checking out my **Great NanoWrimo Prompt Call?**  
[LynThorneAlder.com](http://www.lynthornealder.com/2019/10/24/the-great-nanowrimo-prompt-call/)  
For the next month, I will be writing to prompt from patrons & tippers!  
Anything (within certain limits) at all!
> 
> **Talk to Me!**  
[lynthornealder.com](http://www.lynthornealder.com)  
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	10. Sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you'll excuse me, I need to bleed for Hogwarts."

He didn't know what he'd expected, but, if asked, it would not have been for Harry to linger, standing just off to the side as if wanting to be there but afraid his very presence would contaminate the potion. 

Severus did his best to ignore the boy, focusing instead on Miss Weasley and on Lovegood. "There are three remaining steps. The first is unicorn tears — gathered willingly. This is both for healing and as a binding agent, holding together the magic, the energy of this potion. These must be stirred twenty—seven times clockwise." He dripped in the tears and stirred. "Finally, just before bottling, my blood will go in. Potter, if you cannot handle this, I suggest you leave now."

He didn't need to turn around to see Harry shifting from foot to foot. "What's this potion for? Sir?"

"It's a healing potion for Hogwarts." He tried not to sound too impatient. He hadn't explained this to  _ Harry _ , after all, just to the others. "The castle — the  _ soul _ and its bones and everything in between — requires replenishment. It's — she's — done a lot of work in the last couple days — and in the last few years — and taken a lot of damage. She needs potions just as you or I do. But because she is a castle, a magical edifice — if Granger hasn't read about them yet, I guarantee you that she'll be able to tell you everything about them within a week of you mentioning the term to her. I suggest she let herself into my private office and take the books on the subject she'll find on the left—hand side. I suggest you  _ not _ get Longbottom to let her into the locked case, for your own sanity."

"Sir...?" Harry cleared his throat. "This is going to take some getting used to."

"For me too, Harry, for me as well. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to bleed for Hogwarts."

He finished the stirring and picked up a small glass knife. 

"Why you?" Miss Weasly asked, sounding more curious than accusative. 

"It must be the blood of someone or someone for whom Hogwarts is home," he explained. 

"Or someones?" Miss Weasley stepped closer to him as he cut his finger. "Would more blood help Hogwarts more?"

"Yes, yes it would, but — but you must understand." Lovegood was standing very close now as well. "If you put your blood in here," Severus warned, "you are putting a little bit of your power in here — Understand that this is not something to be done on a whim—"

Both girls — now women — looked at him; he had never been looked at with so much disdain in his life, and he had been regarded by Lord Voldemort in the middle of a  _ cruciatus _ .

"Do you think," Miss Weasley asked him, "Do you really think, after all this, that there is much at all we would do on a  _ whim _ ?"

"Maybe," Lovegood put in, "kissing. Kissing is good. Dancing, perhaps. But not magic. Not blood magic, professor."

He looked between them. "You will be binding yourself, if only a very small amount, to Hogwarts. Do you understand?"

Yes." Both women said it at the same time. "Yes," Weasley continued, "we do, sir. I am certain of that."

"Me, too," Harry put in. "Sir, Hogwarts is the only place that has  _ ever _ been my home."

Severus gave the boy a look, but he could see nothing but sincerity there. "Very well." He dripped three drops of his own blood in and incanted quietly. "My spirit, my magic, my life, my intent."

He passed a clean glass lancet to Lovegood.

She repeated his gesture and his words very carefully, very solemnly. After her, Miss Weasley, and then Harry. Severus watched tensely, but even Potter didn't screw this up. 

He finished the potion carefully; he noticed with a small fraction of his attention that Lovegood knew what to do with the lancets and cleaned them thoroughly and competently while he went through the final stirring and the final addition — seven grains of sand.

"Now it needs to cool for just a few moments before we bottle it." He looked at his — at his  _ students —  _ and, much to his surprise, Severus found himself smiling. "That was rather more pleasant than I expected," he admitted. 

"Now it needs to cool for just a few moments before we bottle it." He looked at his — at his  _ students —  _ and, much to his surprise, Severus found himself smiling. "That was rather more pleasant than I expected," he admitted. 

"So are you, sir," Miss Weasley countered. 

Severus coughed. "Ah. Yes, thank you for that. I suppose—" He unbent a little, because if there was going to be a situation where he did, it ought to be now. "I suppose I might have some reason now. Thanks to Mr. Potter." He nodded politely at Harry. 

Harry blinked and nodded back, a wry smile crossing his lips. "And I'm sure I did it all just for your smile, sir. Speaking of, Neville—"

Severus shook his head. "Not now. There's a long conversation we need to have — I need to have with Mas — with Mister Longbottom — but right now, Hogwarts needs us."

"I was just going to say, sir, be kind to him. And I'll know if you aren't."

Severus stared at the clearly—quite—serious young man. "Mr. Potter, I thought you were aware that your classmate  _ owns _ me."

"I am aware, sir. I was there for the will reading. I get it. But the problem is, sir, you're Severus Sn—"

"Severus," Luna cut off with a dreamy gesture that was nonetheless a cut—off. 

"You're  _ you _ , sir, and he's—"

The door blessedly opened. "Hullo." Neville looked a little red in the face. "I was spending some time just... looking over the place. Your potions are amazing, sir. They did a world of good for a lot of people, but there's some angry people up there—"

"We'll have to deal with them eventually." Severus sighed. "But for the moment, we're going down, not up. Master, if you would be so kind, please send Minerva McGonagall a patronus?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
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	11. Détente

"Sir? Sir, couldn't you—?"

"Master, _ please _." Severus pinched his nose. "Believe me when I say that I would love it were I to be able to produce a Patronus, but at the moment, I appear to be running rather short on happy memories."

"We'll have to work on that."

Severus blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Longbottom met his gaze solidly. "I said, sir, that we'll have to work on that. The war is over. You don't belong to Dumbledore anymore. It's time for someone to allow you to be happy."

"And if," Severus took refuge in snideness because he had _ no idea _ what one was supposed to do with that. "If, Master, I find that I am incapable of happiness? Or that I am most happy when miserable?"

Longbottom's smile was rather terrifying. "Well, sir, I've been told there are potions for that."

Severus pinched his nose. "Would you _ please _ send the Patronus? 

Longbottom _ finally _pulled out his wand. "What do you want me to say?"

"Tell her that it's not an emergency. Tell her _ again _that it is not an emergency and ask her if she has the time to spare to come to the Slytherin common room."

"Slytherin?"

"Slytherin common room?" Miss Weasely and Lovegood were staring at him as if he had gone mad. Severus had grown used to the look over the years, but found it particularly odd and galling from these two. Possibly that was the bond. Maybe it was just who they were in particular.

"Yes. The Slytherin common room. I have, you might say, not the best relationship with the Ravenclaw common room."

"All right." Longbottom's brow furrowed. "Not an emergency, definitely not an emergency, Slytherin common room. All right." He waved his wand and a very large honeybee Patronus appeared — well, large for a bee, small for a patronus. He sent it off with Severus' message. 

"Thank you, Master. Now—"

"Do you _ have _ to call me that?"

"Much as you feel the need to call me sir, yes. It makes me more comfortable, at least until we have established our relationship, as it were." Why did they have to talk about these things _ now _? "Might we deliver the potion now?"

"Yes, Yeah, Yeah, of course. Lead on."

Severus lead the way, although he was fairly certain all three of them at least knew where the Slytherin dormitories were. As he strode down the hallway, missing the billowing of his robes behind him, he distinctly heard Longbottom mutter, "It doesn't make _ me _ comfortable."

"Strangely, Master, the bond does not care about that. It cares about obedience — or, as it seems, in the case of Mistresses Lovegood and Weasley —"

"Not sure I'm going to get used to you calling her that," Potter muttered. 

"You're welcome to be anywhere else, Mr. Potter." Who had invited him along anyway?

"No, no. No, I'll be fine. You were saying — sir?"

"Ah. That with the strange things that Albus did with his will, that I don't need to _ obey _ Mistresses Lovegood and Weasely, simply to stick to the brief, as it were. That is, educate Mistress Lovegood and protect the loved ones of Mistress Weasley. Mind you, as I have already pointed out to her, this may end up taking a great deal of my time, considering the depth and breadth of her family."

"Protect the… sir, Professor Dumbledore can't possibly have meant…!"

"Indeed. Mr Potter, now that the Dark Lord is no longer targeting you — is no longer capable of targeting you, I might say, well done there — might I ask that you consider not putting your life at risk nearly as much?"

"Well," Potter grimaced, "I was thinking of being an Auror..."

Severus pinched his nose. "Of course you were, of course you were. Perhaps — perhaps you might think of an alternate career? Something like, oh I don't know. Pillow tester?" 

"I don't think that's a real career, Severus," Luna told him quite seriously. 

"No, no, I imagine it isn't. Well then, perhaps... book author. Lockhart certainly was fond of you. In a rather creepy way. I'm sure that you could do quite a bit better than him. Especially considering that you actually did all of the things that you can claim to do." 

"I think," Miss Weasley hissed in a stage whisper, "I think he just complimented you, Harry."

"Yes, I wouldn't get used to it. If not pillow tester , if not author, oh.... How is your Transfiguration? You could become a tailor! I don't imagine that I would be called upon to rescue you from straight pins and needles very often at least." 

"Teacher." It was Longbottom who said it, and for a moment Severus thought that perhaps the boy had simply gotten even more confused about what to call him. "Harry should be a teacher. You should have seen him in our DA class sir — you should have." 

"Or," Severus admitted slowly, "I suppose teacher. Merlin and Nimune help the next generation of students."

Any protests that the gaggle of students following him might have had to his assessment of Potter's abilities was cut short by the fact that they had reached the Slytherin dungeons. Severus waved his hand at the doors and, although, in theory he was no longer Head of House, in theory he was no longer Headmaster, in theory he was no longer... anything, the doors swung open in front of him.

He strode forward as if he still had his robes billowing behind him making, he supposed, a strange figure, in his transfigured shirt and woefully—still—fluffy hair, his small retinue of, well, owners trailing behind him. It was easier than thinking about Professor Potter educating the young, when Potter had thus far been resistant to almost any education of his own except, Severus had to admit, if only in the confines of his own mind, apparently, in Defense, which these students had only once had a tolerable teacher for. 

It was only once they were in the common room that Severus thought about what the show they made — 3 Gryffindors and then Lovegood, who was generally considered as much Gryffindor as Ravenclaw is not more — and then he, servant of the Dark Lord, Headmaster Most Horrible, The Dread One — that had only been once — walking into the room, followed by these Warriors of the Light. There were 12 students in the common room, only a scattering of those in uniform robes, and half of those robes had somehow had the Slytherin logo struck from them. 

All of them, from firstie to seventh year, blanched and shifted backwards as Severus walked into their midst, the two seven years standing up and palming their wands. Severus held up both of his hands, one of which held a potion, and the other one of which was empty. It occurred to him that he was desperately going to need to get a proper wand, a new wand holster, and to find his clothing, but all of that was going to have to wait. 

"I am not here to hurt you. I am not here to condemn you. I am not here to rescue you. _ They _ are not here to hurt you." He hoped, hoped like he had forgotten that he could actually hope things, that the last was true. He turned to Potter and aimed a particularly sharp look at the boy. 

Harry very visibly pocketed his own wand, somebody else who needed a holster, and held up his hands for them to see. "I am not here to hurt you. I have no interest in hurting any of you." He looked straight at Parkinson, but who could blame him for that, and said, in a voice far more level than Severus had given him credit for, "Not even you, Pansy. I'm not here to hurt any of you. We're just here to help..." he trailed off and gestured at Severus as if confused as everyone else about what to call him. "To help Severus. "

Harry cleared his throat and then continued, quite gently. "Look, we all had our roles to play, and all of us, we were kids." He sounded painfully earnest, but more than that, he sounded sincere. "We were kids, and we got put in a situation of doing..." He sighed, long, and deep, and more _ tired _ than Severus had thought any child could sound. "Doing what we had to. For you guys, that was not dying. For me, it was—" He trailed off. 

"Dying." Miss Weasley said it softly, but it was still audible in every corner of the room. "For him it was dying." 

Harry nodded slowly and, once again surprising Severus, picked up where he had left off. "We all had our roles to play, and we did what we had to. And as far as I'm concerned, that's what happened. We were kids, and we were stuck. We're all still kids." He looked around the room. "Some of us more than others", he acknowledged. "But we're kids. And that is what we are going to be — no bigger rivalries then who wins the Quidditch cup. And until somebody else decides — no." He shook his head firmly. "Until _ one of you _ tells me that you, and you specifically, have a beef with me, my biggest beef with you, my _ only _beef with you, is Quidditch. All right?" He lifted his hands just a little bit. "We're just students at Hogwarts. No war between us. The rest doesn't matter. Okay?" 

Severus was holding his breath. All it took, all it took was for someone to say _blood traitor_, to say _mudblood_, and this fragile thing might fall apart in more hexes and jinxes than he ever wanted to see again in his life. 

Parkinson seemed frozen to the spot. Next to her, Nott seemed just as stuck. It was a fifth year, a prefect, Pioneer Black, who took the first step forward. One step, another step, the whole room holding their breath. The skinny boy looked too much like a certain Gryffindor cousin of his from too many years ago, and Severus had had a hard time being fair to him, mostly choosing to ignore him in favor of less troublesome Fifthies. But now the boy held out his hand to Harry, and Severus could tell that he wasn't the only one who saw the resemblance. 

"Okay. But we're still going to beat you at Quidditch." 

Harry was laughing, but it was a relieved laugh, a cheerful left, as he shook the boy's hand. Longbottom stepped forward and did the same. And then Weasely shook the boy's hand and pulled him into a hug — not a rough one, but definitely a _ hug _.

"If you do — if you manage to beat us — drinks are on me."

Severus breathed.


	12. The Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heart of Hogwarts!

"I apologize," Severus said, both to the ones that owned him now and to his Snakes, "but we must use the door into the heart of Hogwarts. We will return, however, and then we can talk — if the circumstances allow, of course — about what you wish to do as a House going forward."

"Nobody is going to be prosecuted for being a Slytherin," Harry said, with more force than Severus had expected. "And if your parents pushed you into something, then we'll get you proper defense. So don't — look — don't lose hope, okay?"

The Snakes looked at him in various degrees of confusion. Severus decided to interrupt before things got even more awkward. "Hogwarts," he called out, "Lady Hogwarts. Would you allow this small group entrance to your heart of hearts? I beg of you, allow us passage, that we may help you heal."

Everyone looked at him as if he had gone off the deep end — and then one of the younger Snakes pointed. 

Severus turned. The door was plain. He imagined the castle didn't have energy for more right now. It was wooden, just a plank door, unpainted. He took hold of the simple brass doorknob and turned. 

"If you believe that you can remain  _ completely _ respectful and  _ completely _ silent, then you may come and watch. Otherwise, stay up here. And if Headmistress McGonagall—"

"Mr. Longbottom, what is the meaning of your — Severus!" 

"Speak of the cat and so she appears," Severus murmured. "Minerva."

He was not sure if the woman had ever  _ walked _ anywhere. Strode, yes. Perhaps lept. But simply walked? No. 

"Severus, it's good to see you up and looking well. And alive, I might add." Her voice seemed less pleased than her words might suggest. "And... I hear that there were some extenuating circumstances?"

"That is a word for it, yes. I'd be willing to speak with you about it, circumstances allowing, later, but first." He offered her the bottled potion. "I would like to give this to Hogwarts."

She unstoppered the bottle and sniffed it, swirled the potion around, and murmured a diagnostic spell he  _ still _ had not gotten her to teach him — and now probably never would. Her expression softened greatly. "Yes. She always has been your home, hasn't she? And now —"

"Now is going to be complicated in many ways, yes. Not the least of which is that Miss...tress Weasley here is still a student." He took the potion back from Minerva when she held it out and gave the doorway his attention again. 

It had perked up a little, adding a coat of golden—yellow paint. He pulled the door open very gently and was unsurprised to find a long stairway down, made of flat slabs of stone. He walked slowly, followed first by Minerva and then by a train of students. Owners. Both. He glared into the darkness below him. Owners.  _ Neville Longbottom _ . It wasn't enough that Albus couldn't just let him be, but they were  _ children _ .

He forced himself to calm again and, with calm, to Occlusion. He did not want his current ill mood to bother Hogwarts'. She had been through enough and then some. She didn't need to go through his anger.

Sconces flickered into life on the left of the stairwell as they walked in a very wide circle downwards, revealing the deep well they were walking into. Behind Severus, one student squeaked. He paused on the stairs. 

Silence followed, so he began walking again. If any of his former authority remained, that was all he'd need to do. 

The candles brightened as they walked lower. Sometimes, this area was painted in historical friezes. Today, the walls were bare stone, but the candles were growing larger as they walked further, the candle holders more ornate. 

"Don't tax yourself," he murmured, softly enough that only Minerva might have heard him. "You needn't put on airs for me."

The castle seemed to grow just a little brighter, but the candle holders stayed as they were: slightly fancier than a plain stick, but not by much. The walls smoothed out. It was as if the castle were brushing her hair. 

But that, he knew, was only part of what she was doing.

"I need you to understand." Severus turned to look at the students behind him — and at Minerva, although she knew better already. "If you somehow find your way down here on your own, Hogwarts will defend herself if you force her to. She will not hesitate to kill you if she needs to. She is sentient, but not, as it were, sentimental. Do you understand?" 

Silently, his students, his former students, even his owners, nodded, for once looking suitably cowed. 

"What's more, if she senses not simply danger from you, but intentional malice, what the school will do will look will make death —" here he paused, for with this group in particular he had to be very specific "—Hogwarts will punish you in a way that will make what the Dark Lord could have done, what he might have done, and in some cases what he did do look pleasant. And I speak to you with absolutely no exaggeration on this. She will take you into her walls. You will stay there and not even your ghost will ever escape. Do you understand?"

Once again, the students nodded silently. Even Minerva, who knew of the core of the school, who knew what the school could do, even she looked a little shaken. Good. 

Severus missed the way his robes flapped appropriately as he turned around. He was going to have to do something about that soon. First, the school. 

He reached for his wand, and then remembered that, while his stolen wand may have been serving him acceptably, it was not the appropriate tool for this. "Minerva, if you will?" Minerva stepped forward and tapped her wand very lightly on the plinth in front of them, raising one eyebrow in question at Severus. He would have to tell her later, probably, if he was being kind, before she thought to rip into Longbottom for taking his wand, as she might assume that it happened.

"Hogwarts, if you would indulge us, please?" It wasn't the phrasing that Severus would have used, had used in the past, but then again, it was not a spell so much as it was a request. As such, he suppose that  _ requesting  _ it was probably quite reasonable. And, indeed, the top of the plinth opened, and from it rose a small cauldron.

Despite the austerity of the rest of the heart right now, the cauldron was still gold, lined with iridium, the lip of it picked out diamonds. 

> "I thank you, as always, Hogwarts, for all that you have done for me, for all that you have done for my snakes, for all that you have done for the students who reside here, for the staff who reside here, for the creatures who live here. 
> 
> "I thank you, Hogwarts for the magic that flows through my veins. 
> 
> "I thank you for the love I have found here, for the strength I have found here, for the friendships I have found here, and for the life I have found again and again here." 

Severus felt as if he had just laid himself open in front of strangers, but he was the one, the idiot, who had invited them down here, and with Longbottom, Lovegood, and Miss Weasley as givens, with Minerva as given, if only by the courtesy due to her as Headmistress, than he might as well have some snakes see him laid bare as well. 

He poured half the potion into the cauldron, watching it seep away into nothingness, and then passed it to his left, to Miss Weasley.

> "I thank you, Hogwarts," she imitated him. For a second, Severus was afraid that she would simply repeat him, which would not be nearly as effective as her own thanks. "I thank you, Hogwarts," she continued softly, "for my life. Because I know that you, too, had a hand in saving it. 
> 
> "I thank you for Harry, for my brothers, for my family. 
> 
> "I thank you for the magic that flows through me. 
> 
> "I thank you for everything I have found here." She stood a little taller, seemed a little more wild, looked a great deal prouder. 
> 
> "I thank you for the strength I learned here." She poured in a fraction of the remaining potion and passed it to Luna. 

Severus held his breath.

"Thank you, Hogwarts," the girl whispered, "for shelter." She poured in a portion of the potion, a generous splash, and handed the bottle to Harry with both hands. 

Potter cleared his throat and stepped forward, not entirely certainly. 

> "Thank you, I thank you, Hogwarts, for my parents. Thank you, for Sirius and Remus, for Albus Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, for Severus Snape. Thank you for Hagrid. 
> 
> "Thank you for Ginny, for Ron, for Hermione, for Neville, for Luna. 
> 
> "Thank you for giving me a life. Thank you for giving me a family. Thank you for giving me a home."

The room was silent as Harry poured in the last of the potion, and then, in voices more quiet and more reverent than Severus had known these students could manage, they all murmured, in unison, “Thank you, Hogwarts.”

The cauldron slipped back into the plinth. A feeling like the sunshine coming over one suddenly and then just as suddenly going away washed over Severus. Looking at Miss Weasley, at Lovegood, at Potter, he could see them each shifting a bit, swaying a bit. 

“All of you?” Minerva clucked softly. “I suppose she  _ is _ your home, and you have fought and bled for her. Severus, thank you for the potions—”

“There are more,” he told her. He gestured at the stairs. “Shall we?” They seemed, suddenly, like a ridiculously long way up. 

Still, he had done far worse. He led the climb back to the Slytherin Common Room, finding the stairs softer under foot and the walls more and more finely plastered as they circled. 

“She doesn’t need to make this space fine, but she does it as a thank you,” he explained to the students behind him. “Remember that. She shows you respect. You should show her at least an equal amount in return.”

“Sir — sir, does she want us gone?”

The snake who asked that was not all that young, but they were all still children, and the crack in the voice reminded Severus very strongly of that fact.

“No. No, she does not. And you should remember that, my Snakes, and hold your heads high. Because Hogwarts still welcomes you, and that means  _ she _ understands and forgives. As Mr. Potter said: you were, are, all children. You were all stuck in a war not your making. And you all deserve the chance to move on with your lives. Hogwarts welcomes you.” He pivoted on the stair to look the nervous fifth—year in the eye. “And if the rest of the school does not, then they will have to answer to me.”

“But sir—” began a firstie, the single one brave enough to come down to the Heart of Hogwarts with them. “I’m sorry, but aren’t you, Aren’t you—”

“A slave? Yes, Miss Bianci, I am. And I have been so since before you were born, since before any of you here save Headmistress McGonagall were born. I ask you — do you think that will stop me?”

It was nothing but bluster. If Longbottom wanted to stop him, Longbottom had only say so. But right now the students needed confidence. 

“How, sir?” The fifth-year sounded horrified. “We heard, but we thought it was — was some sort of Gryffindor lie, ah, excuse us, Madame Headmistress.”

Severus turned and finished the climb to the Common Room. Behind him, Minerva was reassuring the fifth-year that “I would expect no less in your own space, Mr. Abbot. Fear not.”

He opened the door and stepped back into the familiar space before ushering all of the others out of the room. When he closed the door, it vanished again into the stonework. 

Severus leaned against the wall and sighed quietly. It was done. And now — now, he feared, things would begin to grow difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
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> 
> _(Whispers) also: If I fall behind in posting this, feel free to message me here or on any of those links above (Which please check out - lots of original fic there!) This is Chapter 11- I am working on Chapter 19, so there is enough buffer for me to easily post on this story once/week or even, if I get lots of comments/kudos (right now: Comments:23 Kudos:60 so say if the combined # gets to 100), 2/week). Just remind me! _   



	13. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lord Longbottom--?"
> 
> "Is a Lord from a family with an impeccable reputation, has now come into his full inheritance, slew Naigini and was instrumental in rescuing our land from the clutches of a madman."

He found himself flanked, Longbottom to his left and Lovegood and Miss Weasley to his right. His Snakes and Minerva were both looking at him expectantly. He, in turn, looked to Longbottom. "Master…?"

The boy paused, then nodded slowly. "I'm sure everyone has questions. It's up to you what you answer, of course."

He sounded suddenly like Lord Longbottom and a lot less like lost firstie. Severus noted that with interest.

He almost failed to note that the ball was back in his court. He cleared his throat, found a place to lean, and began.

"Yes. I am a slave. Yes, I do mean I was enslaved via the ancient blood ritual. I have been a slave since my last year of Hogwarts. At a certain time, Albus Dumbledore made an arrangement of sorts with the person who had formerly formerly held my bond. Yes, this, too, is a ritual, as long as the person handing over the slave in question is still alive. No, I will not tell you who the person was who held my bond before Professor Dumbledore. Yes, I did kill Albus Dumbledore. 

"Yes, that was at his explicit order." His voice didn't crack. He had spent far too long pretending for something like that to make his voice crack. But something inside him shook as if it wanted to scream, something inside him was beating at the bars of its cage, of  _ his _ cage, the way it had been doing since Albus had first told him what he needed to do. "Yes, I hated it. Yes, in his will, Professor Dumbledore bequeathed me to someone. And yes, because of the nature of slave inherent inheritances, they did not immediately inherit me upon his death, because they were still underage. And yes, they did inherit me early because I was dying." He looked around the room. "Yes, Tom Riddle, the one known for a while as Lord Voldemort, attempted to kill me. He believed he needed to do so because he believed that I was the true owner of Albus Dumbledore's wand. He was mistaken,. Although I do not think it was that mistake which killed him, I believe it may have contributed."

"So, " Abbot leaned forward, looking not all that much of anything, because he was after all, a Snake. "So, sir, the Ministry can't try you, because everything you did, you did under orders? And those people gave you your orders, they're dead?" He had to give her credit for phrasing the question in such a way as to attempt to get more information than he had said he would give. 

"Yes, the Ministry cannot try me. Yes, as a slave, the things that I did would fall upon my owner. And yes, that means that a great deal of things that I did, under orders, would fall upon the shoulders of Albus Dumbledore legally." He made sure certain that he was looking directly at Minerva as she said that part. he knew that she already knew some of this but he wanted to make sure make certain that she took it in. Now that Albus was gone, it was important that they went forward with clear heads, and without unnecessary hero worship. 

"Surely," Minerva began, "surely Albus wouldn't — " She stopped. "He would," she agreed very quietly. 

"Sir," Bianci here raised a hand, as if they were in class. "Sir?" 

“Yes, Miss Bianci?” 

"Sir, you said  _ them _ . Who?" Her eyes moved around the assembled Gryffindors as if that might give her an answer, which was not an unwise thought process. 

"Professor Dumbledore, in his wisdom," Severus endeavored and failed to not say that through gritted teeth, "left me not only to Lord Longbottom, but also to Miss Lovegood and Miss Weasley. I am certain that he had sufficient reason and no, I will not speculate on those reasons with you, and I ask that you not bother Lord Longbottom or Misses Lovegood or Weasley with such matters." He looked around the room again. There were questions in their eyes, but, it seemed, nothing they wanted to voice in this situation. He couldn't blame them. There was Harry Potter the absolute epitome of everything Gryffindor, standing there and while his hand was not on his wall, it had not been 24 hours since there were Gryffindors out there throwing hexes at these children's parents, or at least a few of them. 

"Lord Longbottom?" He looked to Longbottom, hoping the boy would take the hint. And, Miracle of Miracles, he did. 

"There are many things still to be taken care of," he began, sounding again more like a lord than a boy. "And many of those things require your expertise, Severus. And Professor McGonagall, Headmistress McGonagall, I believe we need to discuss some matters regarding Severus, preferably just the five of us." 

"I could," Harry began, but then seemed to actually have a thought trickle through his thick brain. "I am going to go find Hermione and Ron," he declared. "We have a lot to research still." He looks around the gathered Snakes. "Make sure that everyone knows," he told them earnestly. "If anyone has trouble, if anyone needs help, come to me. I'll help you, them, anyone. Just let me know."

He was so sincere, so painfully earnest, that Severus didn't think even his most cynical Snakes would doubt his honesty. Still. "Please," Severus added, "Pass the word on to the others of House Slytherin, when they return."

"Sir? Young Greengrass hadn't spoken up before. "Should we, I mean. If you're a  _ slave _ , you can't be our head of house, can you?"

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Miss Greengrass, might I suggest that you work on your critical thinking and listening skills. I have been your head of house for quite some time now, haven't I? And even if I am not, I am still a graduate of this House and I am an adult who cares about your well—being. In this environment, I would not underestimate the value of that."

"But you— I'm sorry sir, I'm not meaning to be disrespectful, but you're, I mean,  _ Longbot —  _ ah. Lord Longbottom—?"

"Standing right here," Longbottom put in, far too cheerfully.

"Is a Lord from a family with an impeccable reputation, has now come into his full inheritance, slew Naigini and was instrumental in rescuing our land from the clutches of a madman." He looked from one of them to the next to the next. "Never forget that if we continue to hold people to what they were when they were first—year students, that we will be held to the same standard." He turned to Longbottom. "Sir, shall we?"

They left, Severus managing to make it so he and Longbottom led the fray. Harry paused just outside the doorway to glance at Severus. "Speaking of what we were when we were children, sir —"

"Potter, you are going to give me a migraine." He pinched his nose and waited for whatever nonsense  _ this _ would bring.

"Severus. Remus would like to talk to you when you're — when you have a moment. If you're willing." There seemed to be a very strong undertone of challenge. James, Severus thought, would have been proud of his son there. As would have Lily. She did love maneuvering Severus into doing something sensible.

"Hoist with my own petard," he muttered. "Of course. If Lord Longbottom allows it—"

"I'm not sure I like that better than  _ Master,"  _ Neville muttered. Nevertheless, he was standing taller and looking more  _ adult _ than Severus could recall him being before. 

"I prefer not calling you master in front of my Snakes. As they are already having some trouble with it. If you don't mind, Master?" He did his best to not make it sound like  _ you idiot _ , as Lovegood had said, this time.

The look his  _ master _ gave him suggested he hadn't succeeded. "I'd prefer you called me  _ Neville _ . At least when we're alone."

"Ahem," Minerva chose the moment to put in. 

"—With my friends and allies, ma'am." He really  _ had _ found poise. Irrationally, Severus wondered if one could inherit  _ that _ with a creature inheritance like himself.

Creature!

He snorted. 

"As I was saying, Master Neville, if you don't mind me talking to — to Lupin?"

"I think it would be a good idea. I think possibly it might be good to set up some sort of regular schedule — Severus." He smiled. 

Severus realized he'd been manipulated and found himself smiling.

“Master, I find myself not entirely horrified by the idea of belonging to you. Well done.” He bowed, deep and low and not at all subservient and when he rose, was rewarded by Longbottom’s smile.

Perhaps there was hope for the world — for Severus — after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	14. Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wish you did have to obey me," Miss Weasley complained, "because I would forbid you from saying that ever again."

“So there’s several things I wanted to discuss with you, Headmistress McGonagall. We — Luna and Ginny and I — haven’t had much time to talk about things since ah, since the battle last night, but we’ve already come to a couple conclusions, and we’re going to need your help.”

Severus sat very still in his seat, wishing, ridiculously, that he was kneeling. At least then this feeling of being swept away by circumstances utterly beyond his control wouldn’t feel so strange.

Miss Weasley picked up the thread. “It has to do with Severus, with Harry, with what we want to do after we finish at Hogwarts, and — well, with Draco Malfoy.”

Severus froze. “No, please.” The words escaped despite his best efforts. “No, not Draco.”

“It’s all right, Severus.” Lovegood’s hand settled on his knee. Somehow, he found himself believing her. He chose to accept that it was because, despite her reputation — or possibly because of it — Lovegood did not  _ lie _ . He had never known her to do so in all the time she’d been in school.

“Do please explain yourself, Miss Weasley.” Minerva looked unimpressed. Severus held out hope.

“It comes in several parts, ma’am. The first is that Harry — Harry ought to be a teacher. And yet, he’s going to need a mastery for that. He’s going to need to finish his NEWT levels for that.”

“And yet you didn’t think Mr. Potter needed to be here?”

“Well, Harry’s just one small part of it and he will work better if we present him with a completed option. I’m not sure you — I’m not sure most people know this, ma’am, but he hates fame and, aside from about one month where he was an amazing prat about it, he hates special treatment for being the Boy who Lived.”

“And yet now he’d lived twice and killed Voldemort twice.”

Severus was holding his breath.  _ Hates fame _ . Had he always?

He’d have to ask at some point. Later.

“I don’t think that will make him like fame, want fame, any more, ma’am. He is, uh. Not to put too fine a point on it, he’s not his father. And he was raised  _ very _ differently from either of his parents — anyway. He needs to finish his final year. So does Hermione, of course. Neville didn’t have a very solid final year but there are people in a lot worse situation — all of the Muggle-borns, anyone who spent most of their year being tortured —”

“Wouldn’t that include you, Miss Weasley? And Miss Lovegood?”

“I,” the woman answered with amazing aplomb, “have  _ six _ older brothers, ma’am. If I can not handle a little bit of torment now and then, I don’t properly deserve to be called a Weasley.”

Severus chuckled. The woman was  _ impressive _ . And he had seen her take a  _ Cruciatus _ .

“Severus!” Minerva looked horrified. “We are talking about  _ torture _ .”

“Yes, Minerva. We are. And I do not believe Mistress Weasley, nor Mistress Lovegood, would wish me to sit here wringing my hands. They endured. Much as, I might add, many others did. And now the time for enduring is over and, it appears, the time for living is upon us.”

“Is that why you are wandering around looking like a Romantic-era poet?”

“Ah? Ah, no.” He looked down at his shirt. “That is a suggestion that I might need to take my NEWT level Transfiguration class again.”

Minerva chuckled a little bit. "Ah, I see. It's not a bad look for you, I have to say. But let me see, we were talking about something serious, were we not? We were talking about those who didn't have a good year here this past year."

"Yes." Miss Weasley nodded. "And obviously nobody is going to try to make Harry go  _ home _ to that awful place again, but that does leave some questions open. For Neville, for Harry - not so much for Luna and I, as we can really spend most of our time here and we're students for another year one way or the other. But for many people." Miss Weasley frowned. "I'm getting off-track."

"What we're getting at, ma'am, is that Hogwarts is Severus'  _ home _ . And Harry's. More than us, for sure. But maybe more than most people." Longbottom's expression was completely unreadable. "But of course, we all know that he's a lousy potions teacher, at least for the younger students."

It actually hit home. It wasn't meant to, Severus didn't think. There was no malice in that lack of expression and Longbottom was not, in general, a malicious boy.

Although it was entirely possible that, along with becoming a snake-slayer, he'd become a malicious man.

He didn't think he showed any of that. Still, Minerva gave him a look that was nearly pitying. "Oh, Severus," she sighed. "The problem is that he is very nearly correct. You are indeed rubbish as a teacher for the young. You have no  _ patience _ , Severus, and while I believe that you could be better, given - ah. Better life circumstances - I do not believe you will ever  _ enjoy _ teaching young students."

"Draco Malfoy." Lovegood put in, with no sense that she knew it looked like a non sequitur. "He would need to finish his Mastery — begin and finish it, I mean — but if you split the Potions teaching between Severus for the OWL and NEWT level students and Draco, at first as what the Muggles might call a — a TA? I believe — a teaching assistant — handling the first- and second-years especially, then you could focus more on those basics that everyone, even pure-blooded students from old Wizarding homes, might need a refresher in. Then once they got to third year, they wouldn't be such 'dunderheads.'" Her smile was so beatific, one might think she had just solved world hunger. "Then, of course, at a point in there, Draco would finish his Mastery and could devote more of his time to teaching, and Severus could handle only the last three years' students, those who truly had an interest in and a basis in potions. That would also," she kept on, seeming not to notice that Minerva had lifted a finger to interject, "give Hogwarts two potion masters. It seems as if she might need two."

"But what of his — his obligations?"

_ What about what he wanted? _

That, of course, was never the question.

"Well, that's where our thinking runs into some snags. For one, Neville could use an Herbology Mastery, but I don't even know if Professor Sprout has one. Harry needs at least one Mastery, maybe two, and there is nobody here to mentor him in a mastery of Defense, obviously."

"Yes, of course." Minerva looked as if she was already beginning to think of ideas. 

Miss Weasley was not done, however. "And when you add to that, well  _ I _ want to play Quidditch, but I have some other ideas, too, and Luna has her ideas — potions is one of them, but spellcraft and magizoology..."

"What Hogwarts needs," Minerva put in while Severus was still trying to figure out where all of this might be going, "is a robust Mastery program. It might begin to help us rebuild our reputation, which has, in the past years, suffered a bit, and not only because the students have been in danger many years — all of the last seven years! — but because some things have been allowed to slide far too much in the last decades." She steepled her fingers. "And I believe that you are attempting to ask me if there is a way that the three of you can remain in residence past your time here as students in the traditional sense, as well as asking if Severus can remain in professorship here  _ and _ asking if Mr. Potter — and possibly the rest of his trio — can stay as well?"

"Yes." Longbottom looked massively relieved. "Yes, please. Yes, that's what we're asking. If, of course, this is something that Severus wants."

"—I beg your pardon?" Severus blinked, and not just at the use of his  _ name _ by Longbottom. 

"You." Miss Weasley poked his chest. "Do you  _ want _ to teach older students, mentor those seeking Masteries, and work as a Potions-master and developer for Hogwarts?"

"Not just for Hogwarts," he said, then wanted the ability to stare at himself. Where had  _ that _ come from? "I'd — ah, that is, I am a  _ slave _ . I am  _ your _ slave, the three of you. My wishes have nothing to do with what happens."

"Hrmrph. I wish you  _ did _ have to obey me," Miss Weasley complained, "because I would  _ forbid  _ you from saying that ever again. If we want to give you a choice, we're giving you a  _ choice _ . Understood?"

"No," he admitted, "but I will, ah, I will consider it."

"Then. 'Not just for Hogwarts?'"

She aimed such a pointed look at him that it nearly  _ was _ an order. 

Severus struggled to obey. "I — I would like, given the choice, to develop potions. I believe that I could help, not just the school, but the wizarding world as a whole, and I have not been able to do that in the past, short of, say, Wolfsbane." He didn't allow himself to look at any of them. He didn't allow himself to  _ hope _ . Hope, he had learned the hard way, simply led to pain. He  _ did _ however, allow himself to continue just a bit. "I have found that I — I  _ enjoy _ , I believe that is the proper word, the art of making a new potion, the process of experimenting—"

"Oh, oh yes." Lovegood sounded so earnest and so sad that Severus found himself looking at her. There were tears in her eyes. 

Her rubbish fellow Ravenclaws had locked her out of the dorm in mid-winter without her shoes and she had not cried. 

Severus was truly an awful piece of trash. He looked away. He would do as he was told. That was the least he could do.

A hand landed very lightly on his wrist. "Severus. I understand. I would like to learn from you, and I would like to learn  _ how _ you research a new potion. And thus —" Her voice sounded light, Lovegood-ian again. "Thus, you would have to research, no, as you are supposed to teach me?"

He coughed. "You— Ah. You would—"

"I would very much like that."

"Well." Minerva pulled the conversation back to herself with a clap of her hands. "Well, I can tell you that I believe this would be a very good thing — for you, Severus, for the wizarding world which may greatly benefit — and for Hogwarts. This will all take time, of course, but there will be some very big changes around here, and if the Board of Governors has a problem, well." She harrumphed. "Well then I will show them the end of my wand and see what they do."

"Life debt." Longbottom spoke up. "Life debt. There are — There are  _ several _ people who now owe me a life debt. And that would be rude and awfully nitpicky of me, because all I did was administer the potion — but Severus brewed it and provided it, and Severus—"

"Belongs to you, yes, he does. Interesting. But the Board of Governors—" 

"Ah, sorry, Headmistress McGonnigal, but it does still include Lucius Malfoy? I don't  _ think _ he's been removed."

"He was — but then reinstated. Interesting. I don't suppose there are others?" She leaned forward. 

Longbottom nodded slowly. "Severus gave me use of an amazing potion and there were — I can make a list. I believe two others are the children of Board members and then one of them — well, you'll know. I'll get that list to you tomorrow, ma'am, or later tonight, if our plan is acceptable?"

"It's a very good plan, although I expect no less from the three of you. I will write up the details and speak to some of the other teachers — especially the Heads of Houses. I do have one question, however: part of your plan hinges on Draco Malfoy. You cannot call in a life debt to bring him into teaching—"

"No, and I wouldn't. That would be horrible."

"Then how do you expect to get him to go along with this plan?"

Severus forced his expression to stay exactly the same. Not a twitch. Not a shift. Until Longbottom said "Sir?" in a voice that was clearly an invitation.

He cleared his throat. "The boy's idiot father has ruined all his other chances. He's marked with the Dark Mark and the Dark — and Voldemort lost. He's been associated with too much trouble and too many deaths and while  _ none of that is his fault _ , save for being young and impressionable, Draco is not an idiot. The world will not be looking for the core faults, they will be looking for people to blame. Besides," he added quietly, "Draco is very good at potions. Amazing, perhaps. He can do it. And he's been quite good with tutoring others in his House."

"I won't stand for such blatant House favo-"

Severus did not bother to hide his snort. "Minerva, I will believe that when you don't absolve your students of guilt before hearing the facts. There will be house favoritism. I will attempt to rein it in to a sensible level and I will lean on Draco to do the same, how is that?"

She looked, for a moment, offended. Severus worried that he'd gone too far, been too familiar. Then she, too, snorted. She reached into her desk for her bottle of Ogden's, pulled out at first two and then five glasses — a well-appointed desk indeed, but Severus' was similar — and poured a finger of scotch into each. 

"To a new arrangement and a new way forward, then, shall it be?"

"To a new way forward." Longbottom picked up his glass, so Severus did the same. 

They toasted. Severus felt a strange sensation, almost like falling.  _ A new way forward _ .

Hope, he realized. It was hope. 

He swallowed down the Odgen's and tried to drown out the feeling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
**Talk to Me!**   
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> _Right now: Comments:26 Kudos:72_  
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(Two to Go!)  



	15. A bit of Scotch and a bit of Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Neville are wandering off to be alone together!

The scotch burned going down but left Severus feeling more unmoored than ever. He looked at the glass, hoping forlornly for more. 

"Now, Mr. Longbottom." Minerva steepled her fingers. "Not Severus' personal chambers, not for tonight, and certainly not your bed in Gryffindor."

Severus wasn't sure if he or Longbottom colored more. Minerva looked between the two of them. 

"For Nimune amd Ygraine's sake," she swore, and poured  _ herself _ another finger of scotch - unfair! "You'd think the two of you were children. Severus, you've been through this before in one form or another, I assume. Mr. Longbottom, you must  _ seal _ the bond, and you ought to do so soon. It doesn't require — what's likely got the both of you blushing — but, oh. I'm sure Severus can tell you the methods of doing so. What it  _ ought to _ require is privacy, and I do not thing that you will get such in the Gryffindor common room."

She didn't have to say why Severus' private rooms weren't an option. There were at least three reasons, and Severus thanked her silently for not bringing up any of them. 

He'd have to give up such things soon enough anyway. He bowed his head in understanding and in deference. "Of course," he murmured. 

"I believe the Blue Suite. Severus, do you recall where that is?"

"I do." He nodded his head again.

"Then please take Mr. Longbottom up there, and I do not want to see either of you — nor hear that you have been in a potions lab — for at least twelve hours. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am." Longbottom stood up. "Sir? If you would?"

Severus stood, bowed to Minerva with a glare that he thought she would understand completely, bowed to Miss Wealey and to Lovegood far more politely, and bowed to Longbottom. "This way. It's in an oft-overlooked corner of the building, but that is going to be a benefit to us, I believe."

And yet, they were not twenty meters out of the Headmas - out of Minerva's offices when Granger, the next-youngest Weasley, and Potter ran into them. "Neville." Granger's hair had a look as if she had not left the library in several days, which, of course was impossible. She had been — Severus reconsidered his rather unkind perception and rephrased it to  _ had not cleaned up properly since after she had saved his life at least once _ . "You will have to seal the bond. I don't know if Professor Snape — oh, Harry said we're not to call you that anymore —"

"I think after everything that we have gone through together, I can tolerate being called Severus, Miss Granger. And Harry is correct.  _ Snape _ is not, nor has it ever been, properly my name." 

He should have stayed quiet; she'd been speaking to Longbottom. But she had looked at him. And now she nodded, her expression completely unreadable. "Severus, then, and I'm Hermione, sir. I don't know if you've told Neville—?"

"Nothing yet. Minerva, that is, Headmistress McGonagall has just given us access to the Blue Room and instructions to do just that." He kept his words as bland as possible. He did  _ not  _ want to know what was in the sheaf of papers that Granger was clutching. Except he desperately did. 

"Good. Neville, it's not simply a matter of legal formality. Several things can happen to Sn — to your sl — to Severus if you don't. Those are on page five, but the short version is: they range from unpleasant to horrible to worse than death." She said this all very matter of factly, but Severus could see the twitch in her jaw. She'd been very thorough in her research, then. Bugger. "The important parts for right now are all summarized on page one, and then pages two through four give you the three most typical bonding rituals. Don't worry, please, I did my best to summarize things down to a minimum. There's three books that you really ought to read and S - S - Severus might want to as well, depending on how much he already knows, but that's not tonight. I think—"

"Hermione." Weasley-youngest-male took her arm gently. "Hermione, he understands. And you, will you sleep now?"

"But there are so many things I need to understand—"

"Miss Granger." Severus stole a quick look at Longbottom, who nodded, which was very kind, considering he likely had no idea at all what Severus was thinking. "If you will sleep and will  _ swear on your magic _ tomorrow that you have gotten at least six hours of sleep — I would prefer nine, frankly, and if you need Dreamless Sleep, I have it on me — then I will, tomorrow or the next day, as time allows, teach you a potion I have taught no student in the history of my time here at Hogwarts. But you must  _ rest _ . All three of you — Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood and Master Longbottom, at least, have  _ rested _ , I know this. The three of you must find a flat place and  _ sleep _ , and if I must delegate someone to stand guard over your room with wands drawn, I will."

The youngest Weasley boy, for the first time, possibly, in his life, looked grateful to Severus. "We'll go sleep, sir. It's only that the dormitories—"

"Indeed. I believe you're aware of the Room of Requirement, however...?"

"Of course! Of course, sir, thank you!" Granger nodded. "We'll, we'll go do that now. Thank you. Neville — Neville —  _ read it _ . At least the first page. Please?"

"I'll read it all, Hermione. We both will. Please, go rest."

Granger  _ finally _ relented. “All right. All right, we will.” She reached out for Harry and Ron almost blindly, and with a warm affection, the two of them led her away. 

Which left Severus with no more distractions. “This way, then.” He gestured and hoped Longbottom would take the clue and walk first, at the very least. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
**Talk to Me!**  
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_(Whispers) also: If I fall behind in posting this, feel free to message me here or on any of those links above (Which please check out - lots of original fic there!) _  

> 
> _Thank you everyone! And sorry, last week I was sick and thus you didn't get your two Inherited chapters - or anything else. I'll make it up to you this week. :-D  
_


	16. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus has no idea what Neville wants. This could be a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - please note that this chapter involves rather strong discussion of slavery and the rituals of bondings for such slavery, which are, ah, not kind.

Much to Severus’ relief, Longbottom took the hint Severus offered. He walked forward towards the Blue Suite, although he kept looking behind him to see if Severus was following, enough that Severus found himself stifling a chuckle. “I will not leave you at this moment, Master. As Miss Granger said, it would be… unpleasant… for me if I were to do so.”

“This bonding.” Longbottom slowed his pace until they were next to each other. “Were you going to tell me about it?”

Severus hesitated. After a moment, Longbottom still staring at him despite the fact that they were  _ walking _ , how had the man survived at Hogw — 

The hall slid just slightly to avoid Longbottom running into a suit of armor.  _ Ah _ .

“I — yes. I would have. My experiences with the bonding have not been… pleasant,” he temporized. 

“And you don’t really want to be bonded to  _ me _ .”

“I don’t really want to be bonded at all, Master, but — but a child half my age…” He stopped himself. “Pardon. A  _ man _ half my age.”

“And you’ve never liked me.”

Severus winced. “I —”

“It’s all right.” Longbottom patted his arm gently. “You really like potions. I’ve never really liked them. And that’s really all you saw of me. So maybe — maybe we can grow to like each other now that you’re not my professor and I’m not your dunderheaded student.”

“I—” Severus blinked. “That is exceedingly… understanding and patient and kind of you. You don’t wish revenge?”

Longbottom’s smile was a little bit worrying. “Sir —  _ Severus _ — a man more than twice your age owned you for most of your life and left you to a man less than half your age. I not only don’t know what part of what you did was on your own, not on orders — and I’m not going to ask — I figure that’s probably revenge enough without me being  _ mean _ . I’m not really a mean person,” he added, almost sadly. 

Severus gaped. “I—”

“I believe you’d say to me,  _ close your mouth, Longbottom, you’ll catch flies _ .” Longbottom chuckled. “If Dumbledore had wanted to  _ hurt _ you, sir, he’d have willed you to a different Weasley. Not to me. Or,” he chuckled, “to Hermione, and have your head spin ‘round trying to keep up with all her questions.”

Severus snorted. “Would’ve been the same as leaving me to Weasley — Ronald — either way,” he pointed out. “The way the two of them are connected.”

“I hope they finally work it out, now that — now that there’s time.”

“They still haven’t— well, you’ve got a point. There’s been a war their whole… childhoods.” He made a face. “You’re all adults now. Strange how that happened.”

“Generally in the passage of time, sir, although Hermione used a time-turner to speed it up. Also to take more classes.”

“To … of course she did. Here,” he added, a little reluctantly, “here’s the Blue Suite.”

The door was, perhaps unsurprisingly, blue, deep, royal blue. The handle was a dragon head; there was no insignia on the door. When Longbottom made no move to open said door, Severus gave in and did so, gesturing inside.

Once Longbottom had  _ finally  _ entered, Severus followed. The sitting room boasted an improbable view of the lake and two blue settees. Longbottom sat down and gestured next to him with surprisingly well concealed nerves. Well-concealed, but visible to Severus, who had, after all, been a slave for a large portion of his life. 

"We should look this over together," he explained. "Unless you know it all?"

"I am going to hope that Miss Granger's research skills unearthed more than the little my two previous masters told me." Severus sat, although he found he was stiff and vibrating with tension. 

Longbottom looked over at him in concern. "Is there — can I—?"

"If you don't mind…. I'd like to get it over with. Master."

"We can do that." Longbottom held the sheaf of papers so they could both read from them and offered no further discussion.

Much to Severus' surprise, the document was clear, concise, and not the last bit prone to showing off or to cramming in more text than the parchment reasonably allowed for. The front page had a tidy summary of the nature of being a slave, why the bonding was required, and a bulleted list of what was in the rest of the sheaf.

She'd written it to be understood, he realized, and not to demonstrate her knowledge. 

"Are you sure you want me to read this, Master?"

"Well, it's about you, more or less, isn't it? So you ought to know what it says. Besides, if there's three options, you need to know what they are to make a decision." Longbottom smiled cautiously at him, as if he was expecting one of Severus’ more cutting responses.

Severus, instead, sputtered.  _ "I _ need to — to — Lord Longbottom. I am  _ certain  _ that you understand by now that you  _ own _ me."

"I do, yes, sir. Yes." He cleared his throat. "Severus. And I understand that, according to this —" he tapped the page where Hermione had written — _ There are unmutable parts of the Slavery Bond, however it is sealed. Those are: Obedience, complete and utter. An emotional bond. A need for physical proximity that worsens with time or distance apart until it has been known to kill slaves. All other parts of the bond are mutable.  _ "According to this, there is no reason you cannot have choices."

Severus stated at him. "You…  _ want _ to give me choice."

"If it helps," Longbottom offered dryly, "you could consider it self-preservation. You know a lot more than me. Giving you more leeway and not forcing you to just go on what I think might save lives. Already has."

"Already…"

"The potions. I wanted to talk, you wanted —"

"To avoid talking," Severus muttered. "All right. All right, Master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
**Talk to Me!**  
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_(Whispers) also: If I fall behind in posting this, feel free to message me here or on any of those links above (Which please check out - lots of original fic there!) _  

> 
> _Chapter number two for this week :-D  
I'm going to post the ah spicy chapters as their own side fic with the explicit tag, since I went to the work of writing them ;-)  
_


	17. Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Neville get to read Hermoine's notes.

Severus pinched his nose. “You, you, Master, you're okay with me having this information and you want my opinion on what sort of bonding we do." He tried,  _ tried,  _ not to be angry or ungrateful.

"You've already been through this twice, right? You already know more about it than I do."

"This summary of Miss Granger's knowledge is knowledge already more than I was allowed to know, before." 

"Albus Dumbledore made decisions I do not agree with, and I have a feeling the owner before him was… was an asshole, sir." Longbottom sounded as if he had screwed up his courage to say both things. "I don't want to keep knowledge from you. That's just stupid."

In a nigh on suicidal move, Severus told him "I believe it is generally done to better maintain control of one's slave."

Longbottom looked at him as if he were a particularly unwise first year. "Can I control you, truly, Severus?"

_ Truly. _ "Not without doing things I don't believe you would do, Master."

"Then I won't worry about what a controlling old man and an asshole thought would work to keep you in line. Let's keep reading before Headmistress Mcgonagall and Hermione burst in here to scold us."

The image was amusing enough that Severus hardly noticed he was doing what he was told.

Granger's notes bordered on clinical, which he appreciated. The first page, in addition to Granger's notes on the immutable portions of the bond, included a brief history and definition of the ritual and a summary of the three methods available to seal the bond. 

Below that was a note:  _ some of the materials mentioned other, older, forbidden methods to seal the bond, but the Library here has no other information on these and you're on a time limit. _

Severus snorted. "As if these three aren't bad enough."

Neville read over the three methods again and blanched. "Historical methods…" he stammered. "Maybe we could…"

"They are unlikely to be better." Severus made a face. "This was my first seal." He tapped the third one…  _ blood and pain. _ "They all require a bodily fluid and certain feelings. I would rather  _ not…"  _ He trailed off. He could already see where this was going. 

So could Longbottom. Granger had put it first on the list, blast her.  _ Lust. And completion.  _ "Professor Dumbledore didn't…"

"Merlin's shorts, no. No, he did that one." He jabbed it angrily.  _ Saliva and submission.  _

"I honestly don't know which would be worse…"

“I do - no." Severus shook his head slowly. "I would love to say that I do know which would be worse, but the situations were amazingly different, and the situation with you would be different again. I do not enjoy pain, but I have endured a great deal of pain in my life and I can handle more. I definitely do not enjoy being spat upon. Whatever words they use, that one, that ritual is about humiliation." He huffed softly, remembering. 

"And, uh, and the third one?" Longbottom shifted in his seat.

"Master, are you asking me if I'd rather have you slice me open, spit on me, or fuck me?"

Merlin help him, this man had been a student. Was still a student, perhaps. 

Neville flushed. "I.. yes. Sir. Severus."

"The problem with that question, aside from the fact that you cannot  _ voice _ it, is that my preferences are hardly all that matter here, and I doubt that you wish to have your first time with your hatred potions professor."

"I don't hate you! ...Wait. My what? We are talking about sex, right? The wand in the knot hole, the quill in the inkwell… Sex. Fucking."

"Yes, sex." Severus regarded Longbottom with growing confusion.

"Oh, good! You said 'my first time', you see, and I wondered if there was something I was missing."

Severus worked through this. "You are… not a virgin?"

"Merlin, no! Not since, uh, well, fifth year. Blokes and witches," he added, clearly seeking to add helpful clarification and not to break Severus' mind. "Blokes first, 'cause the dorms, you know… anyway. If that's your concern, you don't need to be worried. Though we should probably read it, unless Hermione found something awful, like I would grow barbs or something. Honestly." He glared at the sheaf of papers. "The folks who thought this one up were right bastards."

"Yes, I imagine they were." Severus found his voice was soft. "Let us read it, Lord Longbottom, and see if it will give you barbs."


	18. Barbs?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They really do spend a lot of time talking about... matters....

Longbottom flipped through the first two, pausing very briefly at both. Granger's handwriting had gotten spiky on both of them, as if she was growing angrier and angrier as she wrote them. 

They read slowly over the third option together. Severus found his cheeks heating up contemplating it, and when he caught Longbottom looking at him, found himself flushing even more. 

"You really..." Longbottom cleared his throat. "I mean, it's me..."

"Choice of  _ Owners _ was not given to me," Severus pointed out, before he decided to take pity on the man, and possibly on himself at the same time. "No, Master, I don't mind the idea of you fucking me. You're—" He cleared his throat, but he couldn't make himself look  _ at _ Longbottom. "You're quite fit, you've been quite impressive in the last couple years, and you have been, so far, both kind and honorable as a Master, which is more than I could have hoped for and possibly more than I deserved."

"Everyone deserves kindness," Longbottom protested, before adding, a little more slowly, "I couldn't very well take it out on you just because you'd been mean as a teacher. I don't even know how much of that was your idea — and I'm not going to ask and I don't want you to tell me. The thing is... this is now. And you are here, now, with me."

"And you are proposing... this..." Severus tapped the paper and tried not to feel like some nervous virgin. "With me. This, which will have you..."

"Bending you over a bed, likely, yes." Longbottom seemed to think about that for a moment and then nodded. "Please wait here."

"Certainly." He watched as Longbottom stood up and cast around the room before calling out, softly, "Cornflower?"

Severus was hardly in a state to be surprised and yet still was, a little, when a house elf - in Hogwarts House Elf livery but with a blue line around the tea-towel edges - appeared. "Yes? What can Cornflower do?"

Longbottom pulled her over to the side and began murmuring to her. Severus did not attempt to listen in, although he was fairly certain he could manage that. She popped away, appeared a moment later with a bottle of wine — no, port — and two glasses, and vanished again. 

Longbottom poured out two generous servings of port and offered one to Severus. He glanced out the window at the moon and back at Severus before lifting his glass. "To new beginnings."

Severus considered that. He had been  _ dying _ . And now — "To new beginnings." He sipped the port and then let himself gulp a little, finding it rich and very nice. "A good choice."

Longbottom smiled shyly. "I asked Cornflower for the best. I think she has good taste." He sipped his own. "This — this bonding—"

"This bonding." Severus studied the man. "It's required, you understand. Your only other option would be to pass me on to someone else nearly immediately, and then  _ they _ would have to bond me."

"I— ah." Longbottom took another sip. "I just want to be clear, sir. Severus," he tried carefully. "If you are to be owned — and I'm not good enough to release you, you  _ and _ Hermione have made that clear—"

"It's not a matter of  _ good enough, _ Longbottom - ahem. Master-"

"Neville is fine."

"It's not a matter of good enough," Severus continued, before he could think about talking to this — this person who owned him as if he was an equal. "It's a matter of strength and experience with spells. You are amazingly good within your field and you are strong enough to wield the Sword of Gryffindor, but you are barely an adult. In fifty years, you may very well be strong enough & experienced enough. It's just that in fifty years, I may be dead." He took a more generous swig of his port. "I apologize. You were speaking, Master, and I cut you off. If... If I am owned, which I am—?"

"Then I do not mind, I don't, being the one who owns you. Not because I want revenge! I'm not really the revenge sort. Not much, at least—"

"I am filled with reassurance."

Longbottom's smile was strangely warm. "Maybe you ought to be a little worried, but you know Gin and Luna, Harry and Ron and Hermione won't let me get too dark. If not for you, than for me. Besides, like I said — I'm not really like that."

"And I interrupted you again." Severus really wanted to hear the end of that first sentence, but at the same time he desperately didn't. He bowed deeply from a sitting position and didn't rise all the way up. "Please continue, Master."

Longbottom cleared his throat. "I don't mind being your owner. I think — as much as you're supposed to teach Luna and protect Ginny's loved ones, I think you and I..." He trailed off. Severus struggled against the urge to look at him. "I'm glad you survived, for one. And I think that perhaps I could learn something from you." 

He cleared his throat  _ again _ and there was a pause. Severus held very still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends!  
It's been a really long time since I posted, and I do apologize for it.   
The whole, ah, world situation right now has left me a little bit not feeling like writing or, ah, anything?  
And working-at-home is, ah, non-ideal for writing, somehow.   
As always, you can see everything else I write - including my Work-from-Home journal - on my website at [. Stay Safe and don't let anyone breathe on you!](http://www.lynthornealder.com/)


	19. Attaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermoine makes very thorough notes. But that's only the beginning, isn't it?

"Also," Longbottom murmured. Severus found he couldn’t move. He could barely breathe; he could barely  _ think _ . 

"You're quite handsome. And after this time—”

Severus had to struggle to hear anything.  _ Quite handsome. _

_ What? _

_ “ _ After this,” he repeated, as if he was stuck, or, no as if he was trying to get Severus’ attention again. “After this, Severus, you are going to have to initiate, because - because I want to be  _ sure _ I'm not abusing your, your consent."

Severus' head jerked up. "I am literally more than twice your age and I  _ belong to you!" _

"And if you never initiate anything, then I will - I'll assume you're not interested because I'm too young. But I'm of legal age, I've been blooded in battle, and I own you. There is no way that I am not an adult." Longbottom's chin went up and he looked at Severus like the Lord he was again and not like a child at all. "And as for the rest, a couple decades isn't that much for a wizard. By the time we're in our nineties and hundreds it won't matter at all."

"But we are  _ not _ and you are - were - my  _ student _ ."

"Were. Now I am your owner." Longbottom's smile was surprisingly sharp. "I'd say that likely balances out any concerns of misuse of power on your part, sir. I'm going to be firm on this. If you're shy-"

"Shy!"

"-you can initiate by leaving me a note or something. But otherwise, I'm going to go forward as if you're not interested." He sipped his port as if he was discussing the weather. 

"But why would  _ you _ be interested?" Severus was beyond befuddled. He stared at the man in confusion.

"As I said... Severus. You're handsome, and brilliant, and quite fit. I'm quite certain there's something you can teach me."

"Teach..." Severus glared at Longbottom. "You're putting me on, aren't you, Master? Pulling my chain? Getting your little bit of revenge?"

"I promise you, sir." Something went hard in Longbottom's voice. "If I am getting my revenge on you, you will  _ absolutely _ know what's going on. No question at all. As for the rest - I'm being serious. And since you think this is a put-on, are you sure about today?" He tapped the paper. 

Severus found his eyes drawn to Granger's notes. 

_ The requirements of this sealing ritual have much in common with the other two: a bodily fluid, a binding, the runes that indicate complete soul-to-soul ownership, and an act of dominance. That is, the owner must dominate the slave sexually and orgasm at least once.  _

_ It is suggested that this is often used to impregnate the slave as well, to further bind them to their owner, but I haven't added the notes on that ritual here. _

Severus was grateful for small gifts. He knew it was possible to impregnate any wizard - or any Muggle - with the right spells, but he would rather postpone the possibility of carrying Heir Longbottom for some less fraught day, possibly never.

"Longbottom. Master. ... Neville. I assure you of this: While I do not  _ want _ to be a slave, I must be one, and that being the case, I am... I am grateful that it is you and not one of many others Albus might have chosen, including, say, Minerva, Arthur... or Lupin or Shacklebolt. That being said, I  _ also _ would rather this ritual than either of the other two, and I have no personal objection to being fucked by you." He cleared his throat. "I'd rather be fucked by someone who wanted me, but one takes what one can, and in this case, someone who is a generally kind man is to be preferred over other options."

Longbottom watched him for a moment. "Severus." He cleared his throat. "Do you think you would've been  _ half _ as terrifying as a professor if you hadn't been so damn  _ hot _ ?"

Severus had no answer for that except to gape. 

"Trus... I can assure you, I can  _ promise _ you, that it's not a matter of not wanting you and it never will be-"

"Careful, I might be a little unappealing at nine months pregnant," Severus muttered. 

Longbottom ignored this. "But I  _ have to be sure _ you want this. Seriously. I know you don't want, don't want to be a slave. I don't blame you. But this-"

"You fucking me," Severus offered helpfully. 

"That, yes. Me fucking you." Longbottom enunciated it carefully and took another gulp of his port. "That's... a pleasant enough thought?"

"Oh, let me think." Severus was dripping sarcasm and didn't even care. "Being topped by a handsome, virile young man with abs like they were carved by the gods themselves, who also happens to be considerate, kind, and thankfully somewhat experienced? Why would anyone want that or think it was pleasant?  _ Yes _ , you amazing nincompoop... Master," Severus scoffed. "Yes, it's a pleasant enough thought and then some." He finished his port in one swallow.

"...Oh." Longbottom looked up at him through ridiculous thick eyebrows. "Oh, well, then. We're in agreement about that part, then." He tilted his head in the direction of the bedroom. "Shall we, then?"

"Just... like that?" Severus hated himself a little for the gulp.

"I think, ah. I think we've done the talking. Next is the hard part, right?"

"The hard part." Severus snorted - and found that he, too, was growing a little firm thinking about it. "Lead on, Master."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *clears throat*  
I am, ah. Still here. Somewhere.


End file.
